Time Twist
by Mistflyer1102
Summary: On the eve of Yorktown, colony America receives an unusual visitor... and gets a little more than he bargained for when the 'guest' takes matters into its own hands. (A sequel to 'One Weekend', but also works as a stand-alone).
1. Visitor

**I**

**Visitor**

* * *

A steady light rain fell, turning the once dry Virginia soil into a thick layer of mud. A lone figure stood outside one of the tents near the center of the American camp, his woolen blue coat turning dark once the raindrops hit until he backed up until he was underneath the tent overhang. America blinked as though to clear the water from his eyelids, but otherwise did not move after that. He silently wondered why the skies chose to open up _now_, so close to a potentially key battle in his fight for independence.

He just _knew_ that this battle was going to be important. He couldn't explain why, but he just knew.

That was probably because Yorktown could potentially be the deathblow to the flailing British Empire.

To the actual empire in American lands that is, America knew that it would take more than a measly little war to bring down Arthur Kirkland, the personification of the British Empire, permanently. If France's stories weren't enough, then the bedtime stories that England told were.

America just had to win this war. Then this nonsense could end, England would retreat from this part of the continent, and America could be his own independent country.

"It may be raining now, but don't let your guard down. I wouldn't put it past England to try something in this weather, he probably senses that Yorktown is the deciding factor as well and might try to stall the battle off as long as possible," Prussia said, appearing suddenly at America's side and startling the American. The Prussian frowned as America regained his footing, and said, "Do I need to re-teach how to listen for sneak attacks?"

America immediately remembered the pain involved with those particular training sessions. "No thank you, I remember now," he mumbled, flushing slightly at Prussia's snort of disbelief.

"Well, pay attention to your surroundings at least. We'll work on the rest before Yorktown," he said. He fell silent for a moment, staring off in the direction of the ocean, and America wondered if the Prussian was thinking of someone or something he might have left behind in Europe. A lover, or perhaps a brother or a friend was still there. America instinctively knew not to ask and pry into the other nation's business.

"Well," America said finally, carefully breaking the silence between the two of them, "Now that you're here, what is that you wanted? Or was the whole point to scare me?"

"Nah, I came here because Bonnefoy was looking for you. Something about a simple strategy to nudge the odds into our favor in the upcoming days," Prussia said, snapping back to the present. "Especially since the British still have a strong foothold here in the South."

America nodded. While the Americans were still close to the invisible border between the northern and southern colonies, and had an escape route if necessary, constant paranoia kept America up late at night and left him exhausted in the morning. There was always the possibility that the British, aided by Loyalists, could sneak up on the American camp during the night and arrest or kill the whole lot.

In America's case though, he knew he'd be dragged back to London by the heels. England wouldn't let him go _that_ easily.

This whole damn war was proving that.

What was slightly worse, in America's mind though, was that not even the comforting presence of General Washington could soothe those fears for very long. The only person who was a master at keeping the fears at bay was the one causing them this time.

"What are you going to do while I'm seeing France?" America finally asked.

Prussia shrugged. "I was thinking of recruiting a few soldiers to go on patrol. Even though it's just after noon, it wouldn't hurt to take a look around before nightfall," he said, glancing up at the dark clouds above. He ran a hand through his white hair to shake the water out before he mock-saluted and left America standing there.

Ignoring the growing downpour, America finally stepped out from underneath the tent overhang and started walking toward the Frenchman's tent; it wasn't hard to spot. He tried to avoid the worst patches of mud; France somehow managed to keep his personal appearance mostly immaculate during campaigns and didn't mind a little dirt or grit, but America still saw the grimace from the French personification whenever a freshly muddied Prussia cheerfully swung a casual arm around his shoulders.

"France?" he called softly once he was back in the safety of the overhang. He'd learned early on in the war _not_ to walk in unannounced, even if France insisted that he didn't have to announce himself.

America learned that day that not everything England ever said about France was false.

"Ah, America! Do come in."

America stepped inside, careful not to walk over the place and drip water everywhere. "Prussia said you wanted to talk to me?" he said, pulling off his blue coat and tried to wrap it into a bundle to prevent the water from splashing. He surrendered the coat a minute later in exchange for a wool blanket from France, who fussed over him for a few moments until America fended him off. The Frenchman was in his usual blue coat with gold trim, the one he wore when leading the charge with America and Prussia behind General Washington. His blond hair was already tied back, and he looked, well, as excited as he did when he knew he was about to deal a nasty blow to England. America was well used to that expression now.

"Down to business already?" France looked a little put out until America nodded. "_Oui_. The plan. Tell me America, what is it that _Angleterre_ relies on for his supplies and reinforcements?" France said, gesturing for America to take a seat on one side of the small map-covered table.

"His navy?" America could still recount the numerous pirate stories he'd heard while growing up under England's watchful eye. "How is knowing that going to help us?"

France clucked his tongue before gesturing to the map. "Where is Yorktown?" he asked patiently.

"Here, near the bay," America responded immediately. "Which means that England will utilize the bay for bringing reinforcements and supplies in for Yorktown," he added slowly as he wondered where France was going with this.

"Unless the French navy were to blockade the bay entrance, preventing him from entering. His weakness is his strength. Out in open waters, we would be doomed almost right away once the British navy decided that we were a worthy target…" France said, his voice trailing off as though recalling a distant memory. He shook his head and said, "His navy is also his weakness because if it were to be blocked from him, he is on his own until either the navy broke through or his supplies arrived over land, which we can easily defend. Even then, it would take valuable time."

"So we cut him off from his reinforcements…and he'll lose Yorktown and possibly the war!" America said, standing up slowly in his excitement.

"And you will be a free country, _Amérique__,_" France finished softly, a sad smile playing around his mouth.

America did not press; he knew that France still remembered the cold December night in the beginning when America's brother, Canada, refused to join the two of them in the fight for independence, choosing instead to remain a British-controlled territory. America didn't know the exact story of the separation between France and Canada, just that it had been a bitter one and Canada was still hurting over it, even if he didn't say so aloud.

America also knew better than to voice those thoughts aloud. Instead, he somberly sat back down and looked over the map at the different markers that stood for the American, French, and British troops. _If_ he won, he would have to watch his northern borders extremely carefully, just in case England was feeling angry enough to attempt a second strike for the continent.

"Oi Bonnefoy! Junior!"

America scowled at the Prussian's nickname for him, but France spoke first, cutting off whatever America _wanted_ to say to the German. "What is it, Prussia?" France said, smoothly standing to his feet.

Prussia grinned as he pushed the tent flap opened; the rain shower had stopped behind him but gray clouds still hung in the sky. "We," he said smugly, "Just caught two redcoats snooping around the camp. Idiots claimed that they didn't know they were in the American camp because they were too busy chasing a little thief."

"Wait, where's the thief?" America said, standing to his feet as well. He managed to catch the blanket before it fell on the ground.

"Junior, it's just an excuse so that we don't know that they were really spying for England," Prussia said, rolling his eyes. He sighed, and said, "I should have brought my bird over with me, he's so awesome with interrogations."

America blinked. The Prussian never talked about his life back in Europe, but he did think about it often when he didn't think America was watching. "You have a pet bird? What's his name?" America asked, curious despite his nervousness about broaching a previously un-touched upon subject.

"He doesn't have a name yet, but he's a black eagle. You know, the inspiration for my flag," Prussia said, his tone taking on a slightly dream-like quality. He frowned and said, "But I couldn't bring him from Europe, my little brother needed him more than I did. Of course, I forgot that a black eagle tends to intimidate prisoners into talking better than me sometimes."

"Did the soldiers get into the camp proper?" France asked as he tossed America his now-dry blue coat.

"Nah, made it into the outer ring of tents until our scouts caught up with them. We jumped them, and they claimed that they weren't trying to gather information from us, and that some thief stole something from Kirkland. Unfortunately, I believed them up until they said that someone stole from Kirkland; the guy's got the eyes of a hawk and wouldn't let even a _kid_ get away with stealing something from him." Prussia paused, and then said thoughtfully, "Then again, if the soldiers _are_ telling the truth, I'll have to remind Kirkland about it next time I see him in Vienna."

"If he doesn't hurt you first for your assistance here," France remarked as the three of them began walking, Prussia slightly ahead of the other two.

Prussia snorted. "He'd better not, he knows it's all business. He and Specs get along well right now, and, regardless of how he feels about my involvement, he'll just have to deal with me hanging around Vienna because I am allowed to see my little brother there, no matter how much he hates me."

America easily kept up with the other two nations in pace but not in conversation. It was the most he had heard about Prussia since the Prussian arrived in the colonies, and he hadn't realized that Prussia had his own family back in Europe. He started to ask why Prussia had decided to help him if he missed Europe so much, but suspected that it was more of the opportunity to take a swipe at England than any ideals.

England had _a lot_ of enemies, and America had managed to find at least two powerful ones.

He found his gaze drifting in the direction of the coastline, where he suspected the British camp was. Nations could sense each other after all, but the host nation had the strongest perception compared to other personifications on the host's land. America could sense not only the once-reassuring presence of England, but also that of his brother, Canada. That had always puzzled America for the last couple of weeks; the Canadians seemed, for the most part, to be staying out of the conflict. Or at least they were trying to; both sides, the Americans more often, kept getting them caught in the middle.

Perhaps it was a last ditch attempt on England's part to end the war now before they met for another battle, and was hoping that having Canada around would convince or guilt America into calling a cease-fire.

America snorted. England would have to try harder than that. If anything, it angered America more that England would use Canada like that.

"Here we go," Prussia sang in an overly sweet tone, causing the two bound and blindfolded redcoats to tremble. The two soldiers were sitting back-to-back with their hands tied and then a thicker rope wrapping around their torsos. White blindfolds and gags kept the soldiers mute and blind, and America suspected that it was Prussia who did this seeing as the American soldiers looked just as nervous to see the albino approaching them. Prussia dismissed them with a wave of the hand and a 'get back to patrolling' before looking down at the two soldiers.

"Pull the blindfolds and gags off of both of them," America instructed as France moved to stand in front of one and Prussia stood in front of the other. "I'll do the questioning…they can't see me," he added, and Prussia nodded, still looking too gleeful for America's comfort.

The two men looked to be America's physical age. Both were clearly frightened, and America wondered if they'd been conscripted into service or they were still new to the British military. The one that Prussia was towering over let out a squeak when he was greeted with red eyes and water-spiked silver hair.

America wasn't in a mood to play around. "What are your names and ranks?" he demanded.

Both redcoats jumped. "L…lieutenant Moran," Prussia's charge squeaked.

"Johnson," the other replied, still shaking slightly. "_Private _Johnson_!_" he added quickly when France stepped forward with a suggestive leer.

"That's better. Now, I really should have you both arrested and held as prisoners, I can't afford for you to go back and report your findings to Lord Kirkland," America said, careful to use England's human name instead of his country one; if there was one thing that France, Prussia, and England all agreed on when teaching America, it was that the existence of nation personifications _must_ remain a secret to all except the boss, or the country's leader. England had assured America that he wouldn't have had to worry about a human knowing his identity because he was England's colony, and therefore didn't have his own government.

America was looking forward to the day he could have his own government, and be able to tell his own boss about his identity.

Johnson swallowed nervously, inadvertently reclaiming America's attention. "Actually sir, um, Lord Kirkland didn't, uh, send us out to scout… he said that a thief had broken into his tent and stole some little toy wooden soldier that Lord Kirkland had in his tent. Kirkland wanted it back, sentimental reasons I think…"

America briefly tuned Johnson out. England still had that toy? The same one that America had thrown to the floor in anger before storming out of the empire's house?

_Why would he hold onto such a thing?_

"Can you describe the thief?" he asked, interrupting Johnson's panicked stream of commentary.

Johnson paused as though trying to recall something. "Well, Lord Kirkland said that he had been writing letters when he heard scratching in the corner of his tent. Thinking it was a small animal, he got up to nudge it out of the tent, but it was apparently not an animal…nor was it a human," he said slowly. "He said that it looked at him, swore at him, grabbed the toy, and then used a small knife to slash a hole in the tent to leave."

"The description of the thief didn't make any sense either," Moran said while avoiding Prussia's steady gaze. "He said the thief was small, came up his waist, and was gray all over with large red eyes."

This caught Prussia's attention. "What color was its hair?"

"Lord Kirkland said it didn't have hair anywhere on its body. Gave him quite a fright at first," Moran said.

Prussia snorted in laughter. "France, _please_ remind me to bring that up next time I see England. In Europe and after at least twenty years, give him a chance to calm down from this," he said, to which the Frenchman sniffed in disdain.

"And the gray creature came _here_?" America demanded.

"Apparently, if we followed it here…"

America abruptly turned on his heel and started heading back into the camp, ignoring Prussia's call that the whole story could be a fake. One mess up, one error, one thing going wrong could affect the outcome of the battle tomorrow. The rain had lightened up to a drizzle while the two prisoners had been telling their story, and America almost didn't pay attention to the muddy puddles that were scattered throughout the camp. Around him, his men went about their business, some mentally preparing for the upcoming battle, others training.

But somewhere in the panic-filled haze in his mind, America remembered what it was that was taken. The wooden toy soldier that he'd slammed down on the table before he had gathered his few belongings and left his childhood home in Virginia. He'd stolen England's horse just to spite the older man. He left home without a backwards glance or thought for either England or Canada for that matter. He had been angry enough to focus only on striking at England's weakness: America himself. America took up residence in Philadelphia after that, sticking close to his Founding Fathers, men who had cared more for the young nation than England apparently ever did.

"_Amérique__!"_

America came back to the present right as France caught up to him. "_Amérique_, you must remember that this could be exactly as what Prussia says it is; a trap to convince us that something was truly stolen when in fact they are here to spy," he said as America slowed down enough to keep pace with the Frenchman. "Trust me, I have tried to steal from _Angleterre_ many times in the past, and he does not lose things _quite_ that easily." France pulled back on America's shoulder so that the American was facing him. Blue met blue as France leaned in and whispered, "That is why you are fighting your damndest to leave the British Empire. Because, colony or toy or trinket, England _does not lose his possessions easily_. _And_," he added, placing extra emphasis on the word, "Colonies are naught but possessions to the mother country. Whether you like or not, you are still a colony right now."

"I _know_. But what if this thief takes from _my _tent? Or worse, it's an elaborate plot on England's part?" America knew he was starting to sound like Prussia now, and that was definitely _not_ a good thing.

"Just exercise caution, that is all that I am saying."

America nodded, and then resumed his trek to one of the smaller tents in the middle of the camp. France stayed at his side.

His worries were unreasonable, America decided as the two nations approached his tent. His tent was white and easily blended in with the multitude of other soldiers' tents in this part of the camp. If a thief was truly looking for his, America reasoned as he approached his own tent, the thief would most likely waste time searching everyone else's tent. Simple.

America hesitated at the entrance, but, with an encouraging nod from France, leaned forward and yanked the flap back.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting to find. Everything was still neatly put away from that morning, nothing seemed to be missing, and overall all of his possessions seemed as untouched as they had been that morning. In fact, the only thing that was out of place was just a spare wool blanket, which was all bunched up on the floor.

"Okay, false alarm," he said, glancing at France.

France nodded. "We should tell Prussia that it was indeed a false story, or he will-"

America never found out what it was that Prussia would have done to those two British spies. Mostly because France immediately fell quiet when the wool blanket on the floor suddenly _moved._

America swallowed, and sensed rather than felt France tense behind him. "Hello?" America finally called out softly, resisting the urge to kneel to get to the blanket's 'level'. Was it a lost child perhaps, seeking shelter from the rain outside?

The blanket suddenly pulled itself off.

"_Mon __dieu_," France breathed, taking a step back. America found himself straightening and slowly stepping back as well.

It was a short, gray, hairless creature, just liked the two soldiers described. It was standing up on legs, like a human, but was clearly anything _but_. In its 'hand', it was clutching a familiar wooden toy soldier, its once vibrant paint faded from exposure to the elements.

And its great red eyes were staring straight at America and France.

* * *

**A/N: Welcome to **_**Time Twist**_**! I hope you enjoy the story! This is the sequel to **_**One Weekend**_**, but can also be a stand-alone as well. Hetalia Axis Powers and all related media belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.**


	2. Tony

**II**

**Tony**

* * *

A hand wrapped itself around America's arm and gently pulled him back; he'd forgotten France was there. As the two nations began to retreat from the gray-skinned creature, it unexpectedly _growled_, taking a step toward them, its red eyes never leaving America or France…or rather, a certain spot between them. America carefully followed the creature's gaze to the spot where France's hand was on his upper arm. But America didn't tear his arm away; he was just as spooked as the Frenchman now. The two kept backing away for the tent entrance.

The creature let out a loud snarl right before France could duck out of the tent with America. Both froze, and America swallowed nervously as the creature set the toy soldier down on the bed and walked stiffly towards them; America spotted a shallow cut on its right leg.

"No" was all it said in gravelly voice as it reached up (France murmured a few prayers under his breath and both nations tensed), gripped both America's arm and France's uniform cuff, and pulled the two apart. "No," it repeated before squeezing the limbs in its hands and letting them both go. With a muttered curse France took a few steps away from the creature, but before America could escape as well, the creature turned to him and _hugged_ him tightly around the waist, leaving the American looking uncomfortable and confused.

"Well, it appears you have a new friend…whatever that is," France said carefully, stepping around as though to get a better look at it without attracting its attention. "The question I have is what is it, and where did it come from?"

"And why it doesn't like you but likes me," America said, willing his pounding heart to settle long enough for him to focus and figure out the best way to detach this creature from his waist without angering it.

France sniffed in disdain and said, "It doesn't seem to like _Angleterre_ very much, either."

As if to prove his point, the creature growled and tightened its grip around America's waist.

"France, we're trying to convince it that it's okay to let me go, not encourage it," America said carefully; did the creature understand English very well? So far it seemed to. America carefully inserted his thumbs between the creature's arms and his waist, but before he could gently pry the creature off, it let go, taking a few steps back to look up unblinkingly at America.

"Hmmm, it seems to like you enough not to want to hurt you," France said thoughtfully as he moved as though to get a better viewing angle. "Which could explain why it doesn't like _Angleterre_…"

The creature growled loudly again and immediately stood in front of America, brandishing a small silver stick-like thing that was making a small humming sound and a blinking blue light. France jumped and moved out of the device's direction, but the creature kept it trained on the tent entrance.

"It _really_ doesn't like England," America finally said.

Satisfied that England wasn't there, and that America and France were just talking about him, the creature put the device away and looked up at America. It opened its mouth and began to 'talk', but America only heard garbled sounds and the creature stopped talking when it saw America's confusion. Its shoulders sagged a little, but then it moved back to the pile of blankets. France scuttled out of its way as it walked back to the cot and pulled out a stick as it gestured to make sure he had America's and France's attention. Pointing to itself, it used the stick to 'write' four letters on the floor: T-O-N-Y

" 'Tony'? That's your name?" America asked, his nerves still on high alert. If he got that wrong and the creature got mad…

'Tony' nodded eagerly. It pointed to France, nodded approvingly and then pointed to America, nodding approvingly. America forced his muscles to relax a little; Tony didn't seem interested in hurting either of them yet.

"Junior? Bonnefoy? Did the creature kill you or wh- _yikes!"_ Prussia let out a yelp as Tony pointed the silver device straight at the Germanic nation when he opened the tent flap. America moved to stand in front of Prussia, earning a growl from Tony.

"It's okay Tony, Prussia is a friend, not an enemy," America said soothingly, but Tony only grew more agitated, pointing from France and then to Prussia and shaking his head. "Tony, the three of us have been working together for a while now and they haven't hurt me or anything," America added, hoping that Tony still liked him enough to listen.

If anything, Tony looked extremely confused now. Still keeping the silver device pointed in Prussia's general direction, Tony backed up and nudged the blankets aside to uncover a small metal box that had blinking numbers. America watched in anxiousness and curiosity as Tony peered at the device before smacking a palm against its forehead. Then he _finally_ lowered the silver weapon, shoulders slumping.

"So, uh, what is it?" Prussia finally asked, risking a peek around America's shoulder.

"No idea. Its name is 'Tony' though…and he really doesn't like England," America said, bracing himself for Tony's violent reaction toward the mention of England. But instead of reacting the way America expected him to, Tony just put the toy soldier down on the bed, patted it, and then walked back to America to hug him around the waist again.

"Uh-huh. Those two soldiers have been taken care of. Don't worry about any evident attacks, apparently England honestly didn't know that our camp was here and he still won't find out," Prussia said, eyeing Tony suspiciously. "Just out of curiosity, what is it?"

"No idea." America carefully patted Tony's back because the creature's arms had tightened around his waist. As though America was its lifeline.

"Could that thing finish England off if it hates him so much?" Prussia asked, looking interested despite his initial shock of seeing Tony.

Before America could answer, Tony stepped back long enough to shake its (his?) head. Pulling out the silver device, it waved it in Prussia's direction (the albino nation jumped out of the line of fire) before it picked up the second device and tapped the screen before showing America the device; there were only eight glowing numbers: _09 27 1781_

It took America a few seconds to realize that those numbers reflected today's date.

"What is-" he began, but Tony poked him and he fell silent. The three nations watched as Tony flipped over the device, pointed out a label that said _Origin Date_, and then the glowing eight numbers underneath that; _09 27 2012_.

"That's… a 231 years time difference, if that was a date," Prussia said finally, leaning back on one leg. "Which by the way, it _isn't_."

Tony stared at Prussia before smacking its forehead with its palm. It picked up a stick and began writing in the dirt. _Once a dolt, always a dolt._

"HEY!" Prussia snapped, which startled Tony enough to send the creature scuttling for cover behind America. "I am an _empire _right now mind you, and-"

"I do not think that your dear little brother Holy Rome would appreciate it if he knew you were calling his empire yours," France said loftily. He turned to face the Prussian and added, "Seeing as _Amérique__'s_ guest is wary of England, there is a chance that this applies to empires in general."

Tony started shaking its head, and then scribbled: _Where is England?_

France arched an eyebrow. "If you plan to kill _Angleterre_, I'm afraid I cannot allow that." Ignoring the stunned looks from Tony and America, France continued. "If _Angleterre_ is dead, then who will I have to harass and aggravate? The centuries ahead will be very lonely if I have no one to bother whenever I feel like it."

"Yeah, he'll start bothering _me_ next. I'm too awesome to deal with that," Prussia grumbled, eyeing the alien.

"Now more importantly, can you tell us why you want England?" America asked.

Tony shook its head. Then it wrote, _Long story._

"Will I get _Angleterre_ back?" France asked primly.

Tony seemed to think about it for a minute, and then nodded.

"Hang on a second," America said, frowning slightly. To Prussia, he said, "Didn't those redcoats say that they were trailing Tony from England's tent? So if he was already there, then why does he need _us_ to tell him where England is?"

France nodded and Prussia snickered. Tony just looked thoroughly confused.

He jabbered something at America, who frowned. Seeing this confusion, Tony turned his attention to France, who took a few steps back. Then he turned to Prussia, who raised an eyebrow. "Don't look at me like that, I don't know what you're saying."

Tony finally sat down on the pile of blankets, and then looked at his device. Sighing, he smacked himself on the forehead.

"I wonder if that forehead-smacking is supposed to mean something," France murmured into America's ear, America nodding in agreement. "It seems to be doing that frequently."

Tony stared at them for a second, as though it couldn't believe this was happening, and then let its head fall against the bed, smacking it against the thin blankets.

"It's got to mean something, it keeps doing it," Prussia said.

This time, Tony didn't lift his head from where it had hit the mattress.

"Well, I'm taking Junior to check on the troops, we may be going head to head with England tomorrow, and I want us to be ready for anything. He's going to be desperate during this one, especially since we're cutting his fleet off. Ten marks says he starts losing focus two hours into the battle," Prussia said, nodding toward France, who sniffed.

"Bump the bet up to ninety francs, and then we'll talk," France countered.

"Fine, deal."

America meanwhile couldn't look away from Tony; the creature had looked back up once France and Prussia started talking, and was giving him a pitiful expression. America walked over and knelt down to Tony's level. "Hey, it's going to be all right," he said, but Tony's shoulders sagged and his head hung in despair.

"Junior! Get moving!" Prussia shouted before letting the tent flap close after him.

America stood up, and was about to follow France out when he got an idea. "Hey Tony, do you want to come with me?" he offered.

Tony visibly perked up at the thought, and, after raising his device with the dates up to his ear as though listening for something, looked up at America expectantly.

"Do we have to take him?" Prussia asked irritably when America came out of the tent with Tony behind him. He immediately raised his hands in surrender when Tony pointed the silver, blinking device at him. "All right, all right, he can come!"

There weren't many soldiers out and about because of the rain, but Tony still remained close to America's side, skittish and wary. America couldn't tell what the creature was thinking; it kept looking around at the tents and ducking away whenever there was a soldier in view. At one point, it clutched America's blue coat as though to keep the young personification nearby. France and Prussia walked ahead to the nearby training fields, talking quietly, but America could see that Tony was being extremely careful with them, never losing sight of them.

"So I was chatting with the two British soldiers, and they said that England has a subordinate with him from up north, so I think it's fair to guess that Canada is with him," Prussia said, his voice growing louder as America and Tony caught up to him and France. "Don't know how much he'll make Canada fight though. He might just be here to surprise Junior."

"I already know about Canada being here, and England knows that I can sense him like he can sense us," America interrupted. "So Canada has got to be here to fight, why else would he be here?"

"Inconvenience? _Angleterre_ knows what Canada means to you and me, and that is who he is the most worried about right now," France said, glancing back. He looked at a scowling Prussia and said, "You forget that the Hessians fight for the British also, he is familiar with German tactics."

"They've got their tactics, I've got mine," Prussia snapped irritably. "_Bruder_ hasn't been paying attention to his own territories, I'll have to have a little word with him when we go back to Europe, after the peace negotiations that is. Bet you that Austria is corrupting him, there's no other thing he could be doing for _years_…"

"Just because you do not run the Holy Roman administration doesn't mean that it still gets its affairs done instantaneously," France said. "Now as for the French, we always find a way to get things done and only the expert players of the game will win."

America shuddered; he'd visited the royal French court in Versailles at Ben Franklin's insistence (_appeal to them personally, they are quite easy to get along with once you get to know them, and they'll like the personalized touch_) and that was one 'personal' visit he wasn't too keen on repeating anytime soon. The excess of the French court and France's attempts to make the visit even more personalized only reinforced the advantages of a democracy, and America wasn't going to put it past France to woo him at least a few more times in the next twenty years.

When Ben said 'once you get to know them', he really meant it in every sense of the phrase.

He looked down when Tony started tugging on his coat again. "What is it?" he asked, frowning when Tony let go of his coat and then pointed at him. "Me?" he asked, and Tony shook its head and pointed at him again, only to pantomime a longer hair curl. "Canada?" America hedged, and Tony nodded enthusiastically. Then it looked around furtively and began to slink around as though it was either trying to hide or prey on something (America sincerely hoped it was the former). When America didn't say anything more, Tony opened its mouth wide but no sound came out. When America _still_ didn't say anything, Tony sagged before kneeling down to write in the dirt one word: 'bear'.

"_Ohh,_ Kumajirou. What about him?" America asked.

Tony started to smack its forehead again, thought better of it, and then just started walking again, grabbing America's coat and dragging him along to catch up with the two European personifications.

"So where did Antonio go off to, anyway? He should be partying here with us, he's got just as much reason, if not more, to aggravate England?" Prussia was asking when America and Tony caught up to them.

"I do not know. I have not heard whether he signed official treaties with Alfred's people or not," France replied. "I suspect though he is safeguarding his southern colonies in case Kirkland wins and decides to advance farther south."

"Arthur is _not_ going to win. I'll go down fighting first," America said coldly. "I told you from the start, France. I don't care what kind of grudge you guys have, but I need to save my people."

"As much as that is admirable, you also need to keep them safe in wartime. Our disagreements will forever spill into the humans' lives, so the least we can do is minimize resulting carnage. Such as knowing when to surrender so that the fighting is not drawn out and pointless," France said mildly as America joined him on his other side.

"Is that for real, or do you tell yourself that so you don't feel that angry each time you throw in the white flag?" Prussia asked with a straight face. He snickered as he dodged a swipe from the Frenchman. "I'm not insulting you, I'm asking you," he added, leaping away when France attempted to lunge for him. "Oh, going to quit now on _me_?" he teased, and then darted away when France started to give chase.

"Let him run. We'll see how long it takes for him to figure out that I am not chasing him," France said, drifting back to America's side. "And he wonders why he was not chosen to be the representative of the Holy Roman Empire."

"Wouldn't the Holy Roman Empire have its own personification?" America asked.

"Yes and no. Little Holy Rome is his own personification, but it's because most of the Germanic territories underneath him are changing too much to keep a personification for too long. Prussia, Austria, Hungary, they all, along with the others, are personifications in their own right because they have been there for centuries already. Officially though, Holy Rome is the _representative_ of the Holy Roman Empire, not its sole personification," France explained. Noting the confused look on America's face, he said, "Think of it this way. _Angleterre_ is the personification of his country, but we also address him as Britain or British Empire, (very useful if you're trying to stroke his ego), but he is merely the representative of the British Empire because all those beneath him, you, Canada, India, Australia, personify your colonies. Or countries, as it may be."

"I see why you wouldn't tell a human that," America said as Tony grabbed his coat again to keep up. "Confusing."

"That and they'll expect us to perform miracles. You will never have a moment's peace. Trust me when I say that the mistake has already been made, and it was my dear acquaintance Scotland who made that mistake. He'd told his queen about _Angleterre'_s existence, and it slipped out into the royal court, and instead of pursing _Angleterre_, most of his nobles chased _him!_" France said. "Poor Queen Mary was forced to abdicate, poor dear, I very much enjoyed being with her in the French courts, she was engaged to the _dauphin_ at the time…"

"When was this?" America asked. He only remembered Scotland from England's ghost stories, and had always wondered if the man lived up the reputation.

"Hmm…the fifteen-fifties I believe? No, after… that was a very confusing twenty years what with _Espagne_ and _Angleterre_ arguing constantly and the Armada and _Angleterre_'s precious 'Queen Bess' living in a constant state of paranoia. I would know, I accompanied the French ambassador to the English court. Took the time to remind her exactly where her dear mother spent _her_ childhood."

America's mouth dropped open. "And England let you get away with that?"

France snorted. "Of course not. _Angleterre_ never forgave Anne for causing the religious upheaval in his country, but Elizabeth was by far his favorite queen. I attacked both fronts, complimenting Anne and attempting to court Elizabeth. To this day, that was the fastest expulsion from his lands that I had ever experienced. He can be quite vicious when he wants to."

"I know," America agreed. He looked down to where Tony was practically tugging the coat off in his attempt to hide. "Tony, cut it out," he whispered.

Tony furiously shook its head.

"Come on, I don't want you to rip my coat. Cut it out!" America snapped, tugging his coat harder. Instead of letting go or ripping it, Tony let America pull him around only to panic again, ducking away to hide behind the American.

"_Amérique,_ his panic is justified," France said quietly, coming to a stop and catching America's arm to stop him as well.

Looking up, America saw the cause for the panic.

Prussia was walking toward them, guiding a blindfolded British redcoat. The courier – America recognized the insignias – was clutching a white flag and wore a white blindfold over his eyes. "It's no one we know," Prussia said when they stopped. He ripped the blindfold off, but pressed a small dagger against the man's side; one wrong move and the man was a dead one. "He says he has a message from Lord Kirkland, and he is to bargain for their wandering scouts."

"The scouts are prisoners of war. We can negotiate after the battle," France said calmly. "No harm will come to them here."

The scout looked as though he desperately wanted to speak his mind… but knew better. "He expects a reply," he said stiffly, handing the folded letter over to France.

"_Merci_," France replied, smirking when the redcoat stiffened even more.

There were a few moments of silence as France read the letter before it disappeared into his pocket. "You can tell Lord Kirkland that I agree to meet him under the white flag, but only for an hour. I agree to his meeting place and time," he said, looking down at the redcoat.

The redcoat didn't even honor France with a reply. He just nodded stiffly before allowing Prussia to slip on the blindfold again, and escort him away.

"So, it is definitely just the redcoats that disturb your new friend, not empires in general," France said, watching as Tony finally calmed down enough to peek around America's blue coat. It stuck its tongue out at the retreating redcoat, but disappeared again once the redcoat sneezed.

"So what did England want?" America asked.

"He wanted a rendezvous," France said when Prussia finally rejoined them. "Midnight, approximately two miles from here. He didn't say whether he'd be bringing anyone, but I think it's safe to assume he will."

"He'll bring Canada for sure," Prussia said grimly. "Unless this is a trap…"

"_Non_, this is under the white flag, and while he is a cheater, a liar, a pirate, a thief, and other things that are not meant for proper company, he is honorable only when it comes to the battlefield. He will observe the white flag, even though it will slowly be killing him inside that you, me, and _Amérique_ are just within his grasp," France said smugly, waving the letter around before pocketing it again. "If he _does_ attack, well, then I will have no qualms about using your… ah, _plan_," he said to Prussia, who nodded.

"Wait, what plan?" America asked, frowning.

"Nothing you have to worry about, Junior. Just a little something in case we need to turn the tide of battle in our favor," Prussia said, smirking. "The Frenchie here is having second thoughts because he's going to have to face his former colony next time we fight."

France ignored the Prussian in favor of re-reading the letter. "My dear Prussia, there are better things you could be doing with that mouth instead of insulting me," he said without looking up.

"Oh yeah? Why you…"

America once again stopped listening when Tony started tugging on his coat. "I'm guessing you want to go to the rendezvous, too?" he said, kneeling down to Tony's level.

Tony nodded eagerly.

"France, is it all right if Tony comes too?" America asked, twisting slightly to look up at the French nation.

"I don't see why not. I am interested in seeing his reaction to _Angleterre_, this should be educational," France said, glancing briefly down at Tony before returning to the letter.

America looked back at Tony. "Then it's a yes."

Was it America's imagination, or did Tony look a little _too_ excited at the prospect of facing England?

* * *

**A/N: Kudos to anyone who can figure out Tony's weapon. Yes, it was stolen. ;) **


	3. Rendezvous

**III**

**Rendezvous**

* * *

"_Amérique?"_

America jumped; it was just past nightfall and he'd forgotten that France was going to meet England that night. Tony however jumped to his feet, the tip of his device flashing blue as he aimed it at a surprised France. But before France leap back or otherwise react, the silver weapon promptly disappeared and Tony settled back down on his pile of blankets.

"What is it?" America whispered as he stood up, still wary of making sudden moves and startling Tony.

"Time to go. As much as I'd prefer that you stay, it is considered courteous wartime protocol that when one Nation wishes to speak to the opposition, all Nations involved go to the meeting," France said, leaning against the frame. "A matter of trust apparently, that no one will risk violating white flag. Prussia is ensuring that the camp will be well guarded in our absence."

"All right… um France? Are we supposed to be in uniform for this?" America asked, stumbling slightly as he climbed out of bed, adjusting his night shift to better cover himself.

"_Oui_," France replied, but made no move to leave.

There was a moment of silence as the two of them stared at each other, but before America could politely ask France to leave, Tony growled and then brandished the silver weapon at France, who jumped and said, "I will be waiting just outside" before disappearing back outside.

"Thanks Tony," America said as he looked around for his uniform. Tony stopped him by placing a hand on his elbow, and then held up the blue uniform. "Thank you," he said, taking the uniform as Tony went to stand guard in front of the tent entrance, no doubt waiting to scare off France if the Frenchman came back for any reason.

Once dressed, he ran his fingers through his hair in a half-hearted attempt to look presentable and then walked over to Tony. Taking the creature's hand, he led Tony out of the tent, and held onto the creature tightly. If Tony minded America squeezing his fingers, he didn't give any indication. Instead, he merely briefly squeezed back.

"Do you have everything?" America whispered as he paused not too far from the tent. He smiled when Tony nodded, but then knelt in front of Tony. "Tony, please promise me you won't do anything stupid tonight."

Tony nodded, incredibly eager again.

America sincerely hoped he wasn't making a huge mistake. "That includes leaving England alone," he added as an afterthought.

Tony's shoulders slumped forward and he hung his head, but he still (reluctantly) nodded.

"Good, and thank you."

Tony grumbled to himself as he followed America in the dark. America meanwhile made a mental note to learn a few words of Tony's language so that they could have a more effective conversation instead of merely hand gestures.

America found France waiting patiently near the edge of the central circle of command tents, slightly impatient. He was also alone, and America silently cursed himself for being late. "Sorry," he whispered as he came closer, "I didn't mean-"

"No need for apology, _Amérique_, we are still waiting for Prussia," France replied with a faint smile as America slowed down enough as to not splash mud on the other nation. France already got irritated when Prussia did that, America didn't want to risk angering the other nation now, when they were about to come face to face with England.

"Prussia? Where is he?" America asked once he realized what the other nation had said.

"Reconnaissance. He wanted to ensure that we weren't about to walk into a trap, so he left a little while ago, after we finished dinner, and he _should_ be back in a few minutes," France replied, raising an eyebrow when he glanced past America's shoulder. "Are you sure it is wise to bring your little friend?"

"Tony promised to behave, so I thought it would be all right. I trust him," America replied.

"You are very trusting, _Amérique_. If you are to avoid any more European powers attempting to take over your people, you must be more careful, _non?_" France said, mildly glancing at the scattering of tents surrounding the two of them.

America glanced down at Tony, who only scooted closer to him as though to hide from France. "I'll keep that in mind, thank you," he said, looking up at France.

The French personification merely nodded before turning back to face the direction of the woods.

America didn't know how long they stood there, but it felt like hours. Tony would nod off every five minutes or so, but would snap awake at even the smallest sound. A branch snapping, France shifting position, a frog croaking, crickets chirping, _everything_ made the creature jump. Tony was also absently drawing pictures in the dirt, something America could see in the flickering lights of the nearby tents. The pictures were odd as well; a circular object with four sticks coming out of the bottom, a large stiff bird with flat wings with the words _United Airways_ on the side, and the current image, which looked like an oddly-formed whale that Tony was now meticulously dividing up into smaller shapes. From America's angle, he could see that Tony was also writing two letters in each shape-_CA, NM, NV, WA_ to name a few_-_ and was slowly working his way across the image.

_Snap!_

America jumped at the loud crack, and Tony swore and aimed the silver device at the source, making Prussia stumble backwards and out of the way. "Oi, it's _me!"_ he whispered harshly, scowling at Tony, who kept the device pointing straight at him. America only became alarmed when he realized that the device was now making a soft humming sound.

"And what language, did you learn that word from _Angleterre_?" France asked, looking around America at Tony.

Tony just pointed to America, who vehemently shook his head.

"Oh, both of you, _be quiet_," Prussia snapped as he pulled a bunch of dead leaves off his boot. "Anyway, I scoped the area out. The clearing is roughly the halfway point between our camp and theirs, but it's closer to theirs. I suspect England is expecting your surrender, both of you," he added, looking at the two of them.

"And here I was hoping he was about to come to his senses and surrender to _us_," France said, shaking his head sadly. "We should go now though, we do not want our dear _Angleterre_ to find this camp when he comes looking for us," he said, readjusting his coat so that it did better to keep him warm.

Prussia nodded, albeit warily as he looked down at Tony. "Are you sure it's a good idea to bring your buddy along?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as Tony scrubbed out his drawings in the dirt. "The last thing we need is for him to start another battle when both camps lie exposed," he said as Tony ducked behind America, making soft whimpering sounds.

"He promised to behave, and I trust him," America said firmly, resisting the instinctive urge to yank his coat from the creature's rather strong grip.

"All right, if you say so," Prussia said finally before gesturing with his head toward the woods. "Let's go, the sooner we leave, the sooner we can get this done with."

America nodded before tugging his coat free so he could take Tony's hand instead.

The walk to the designated clearing was quiet, punctuated only by the occasional snapping branch or owl hooting. Tony was either terrified or extremely excited; he kept shivering against America and muttered in his native tongue under his breath. America wondered if he should be worried because the alien kept the silver device close at hand, but trusted Tony to keep to his promise. At one point, when Prussia tripped and nearly fell, Tony let out a screech and aimed the weapon, startling Prussia and France enough so that the two empires nearly collided into each other.

"Dammit, he's going to get us caught, not me," Prussia grumbled as he pushed France away.

"He's been twitchy all evening, and I can't exactly speak his language and ask him what's wrong," America whispered back. "He just showed up _today_!"

"Silence, both of you. _Angleterre_ will be delighted at the first sign of disunity, and we cannot give him false satisfaction," France warned before nudging America forward. "Come, we are almost there."

America glanced at Tony, who shrugged innocently, and then continued walking.

The clearing was not empty when the quartet finally arrived.

England was standing there in plain view, the bold scarlet and gold of his coat almost glowing in the moonlight, his face carefully schooled into one of barely-veiled anger. Cold green eyes carefully studied the three of them – Tony had ducked behind America again – before stepping aside so that they could see a similarly dressed Canada behind him, Kumajirou nowhere in sight. If it had been a deliberate action designed to unsettle France and America, there was nothing to give the two personifications away. Or at least America didn't give anything away, despite the bittersweet feelings at seeing his brother again; happiness to see him, betrayal to see the British red on his brother's uniform. But his heart twisted in anger and hurt to see his former mentor regarding him as one would a dangerous stranger.

"_Bonsoir, Angleterre_," France smoothly greeted, his voice even as he approached England. Prussia pulled America back to keep the other from following as France added, "To what do I owe the… _pleasure_ of this meeting?"

England didn't beat around the subject, that part of his personality was still familiar. "Your surrender. Or rather… America's. King George is willing to negotiate a policy of leniency with King Louis, if you agree to surrender tomorrow morning at the latest," he said, his voice as calm and level as France's at the moment. "Same goes for the Holy Roman Emperor," he added, his steady gaze flickering at Prussia for a moment.

"Ah, but there are not Holy Roman troops here, only Prussian," France said, smiling pleasantly. "We both know you know that since you watch Holy Rome very carefully because of past petty grievances."

England only gave a thin smile before he replied.

As the two European empires poked and prodded each other while smiling the entire time, Prussia leaned down next to America's ear, accidentally startling the younger country as he whispered, "Welcome to European diplomacy, as demonstrated by the two biggest rivals on the continent."

"I thought war was the European version of diplomacy," America whispered back, his eyes never leaving England.

"Whoever told you that was partially right. War is more of the aggressive negotiations part of European diplomacy. This right here is just the warm-up, despite the fact that they can't exactly fight because of the white flag," Prussia said, eyeing the white flag that Canada was clutching in a white-knuckled grasp.

America nodded and refocused on the two.

Now that England was actually standing next to France, America could truly see how much of an effect his fight for independence was having on the two of them. France looked strangely energized, no doubt motivated by his desire for revenge for the latest in a string of offenses in the old feud between them. Victory was in his favor and close at hand, something that England knew very well. England on the other hand looked tired and worn underneath the anger, obviously clinging to the last shreds of hope that despite the years of fighting, he could still reclaim and reconcile with America. He wanted things to go back to the way they were, before the Revolution. A small part of America, the part that consisted of the colonists wishing to remain with the empire, tugged slightly in his chest at the sight.

_Stop. Remember what he did to you_.

"_Amérique?_" France suddenly said, reclaiming America's attention.

"Yes?" America asked, looking up to find France and England watching him.

"Do you wish to speak with Canada?" he asked.

America glanced at his brother, who looked cautiously hopeful. "All right, but only him," he said.

France nodded before retreating, as did England. This allowed Canada and America to approach each other without European interference, although England did hover a little ways behind Canada, and America suspected that France was doing the same behind him.

For a moment, neither of the North Americans said anything.

Canada cracked first. "I… I miss you, I wish you could just come home," he whispered, his head hanging slightly.

America desperately wanted to touch his brother's shoulder, to reassure him and lend him some sort of comfort like he used to when the two were still living together. But he dared not, not with England watching and waiting for him to make a mistake that would violate the truce. "I have to do this, my people were suffering under British rule," he said finally.

"He's willing to listen, compromise even. Just as long as you come home," Canada whispered back, eyes flickering past America's shoulder to an expressionless France. Swallowing nervously, Canada continued, "We could stop this fighting, stop killing our people over governing rights-"

"_My_ people, Mattie. You told me years ago that you didn't want anything to do with this fight between England and me," America interrupted bitterly. "And I _can't_ compromise, not when I'm this close. I tried, Mattie. I tried negotiating and compromising with England, and he was too stubborn-"

"Negotiating? It seemed more like whining to me, how did you expect me to take you seriously at all when your behavior was simply atrocious at the time?" England snapped, unable to resist the temptation to defend himself.

"You kept treating me like a child, like I was still three years old!" America snapped back, trying to resist the strong urge to start yelling at the older empire, England would be too smug at having his point proven to continue talking. "You started hurting me, my people-"

"Those bloody taxes were supposed to help pay for a war _he_ started!" England countered, pointing at France, who stiffened at the accusation.

"Actually _Angleterre_, I distinctly recall starting that it was a British colonist who started that one," France replied with a smirk as Prussia stepped over to stand next to him in a show of support.

"I should have been harsher at the Treaty of Paris, to discourage you further from ever defying me again," England snarled, reaching out and forcibly pulling back a terrified Canada.

"England, you are aware that you don't rule all of Europe, right? Because all I'm hearing are empty threats," Prussia remarked. "And besides, I thought we were harsh enough…"

"Oh, I think he knows that he does not rule all of Europe. That's why he's trying to rule the world, to make up for it," America said, stepping back so that he wasn't completely alone in facing the enraged empire.

"Or he could be trying to make up… for something else," France said with a knowing smirk.

At this point, England's temper just snapped.

America leapt back with a yelp as England lunged for his throat. France meanwhile had moved forward in an attempt to pull America back to safety. Prussia however had started to move for England right as the latter started moving.

"_STOP!"_

Everyone froze at the command, England still in a crouched position with Prussia's hands on his shoulder, France standing at a somewhat awkward angle as he reached for America, whose coat was in Tony's firm grip as the little alien pointed the silver stick at England's chest. "You will not hurt America," Tony said in perfect English but with what America suspected was the colonial accent; it was English that sounded both wrong and familiar at the same time. "You will leave my friend alone," Tony added, reaching into his knapsack with his other hand and releasing America's coat, "Both now and in time," he said, calm and patient as ever while pulling out the familiar little box that had the date on it, the little numbers glowing now.

England didn't seem to hear him. Instead of going for America, he lunged for Tony next.

"Arthur, no!" Canada yelled, jumping after the empire.

France let out a wordless snarl and moved to pull America away right as Prussia moved to intercept Canada.

There was a flash of blinding white light, and then nothing.


	4. Accident

**IV**

**Accident**

* * *

The soft sounds of birds chirping greeted America as he came to. Warmth spread against his face in a semi-familiar caress, and the strong smell of grass permeated into his nose. As awareness spread back through his body, he became well aware of a heavy weight on his torso and legs – two separate weights – but found that he couldn't move because whoever was on his back was heavy enough to pin him down.

Not England then.

Probably Canada.

His theory was proved correct when his brother rolled off, accidentally pressing America's face into the dirt once again. "Sorry," Canada said, spine cracking as he sat up stiffly. "Are you all right?"

America finally looked up at his brother, spitting grass out of his mouth as he did. His heart twisted when he noted the redcoat half-hanging on his brother, but he shrugged it aside. "Yes, I'll be fine once…" he twisted around to glance at his legs and grimaced. "I'll be fine once France gets off me," he said, scowling at the Frenchman, who easily pushed Prussia off of him and onto England by accident.

"Okay." Canada looked around; silently taking in his surroundings while America clawed his way out from underneath France. He was about to ask Canada another question when his brother stiffened yet again. "How did we get home?"

Confused, America looked up. His jaw fell open when he saw what Canada meant.

Just up the hill from the small tangle of Nations, beyond the tree line, the familiar white-painted Virginian house stood tall and silent against the blue sky. The paint had been freshened up since America last saw it, and the sprawling vines had definitely grown in the last several years he hadn't been home. The old oak that America had played in when he was younger was still there, the branch thicker and longer and within better reach of the upper floor windows. Large windows had been installed on the ground floor, and America decided that he liked what England had done to the house.

Not that he'd _ever_ mention that aloud.

"What in the bloody hell…"

Speaking of England…

America was back onto his feet and he immediately found England shoving Prussia violently back to the ground, much to the albino's protest. The empire adjusted his coat before turning to America, who immediately bristled and prepared for the second round, there was no way he was going to let England win…

"_NO!"_

Both Nations jumped when someone screeched; America turned, and to his surprise, saw Tony scowling and holding his hands on his hips. The alien shook his head, and pulled out the tatters of their white flag. "No," he repeated in English.

Brushing himself off, Tony looked around at the five of them, holding his silver device warningly. Then he gestured for them to follow him, and immediately set off up the hill toward the house. Puzzled, America followed, wondering why Tony would lead them back to his childhood home.

"Wasn't it raining and _night time_ before we got zapped?" Prussia abruptly asked as he fell into place between France and England; he didn't want to tempt Fate just yet.

"My dear Prussia, we were unconscious for quite some time," France replied mildly, walking just behind America and Canada. "Time passes."

"Yeah, but –"

_Miaow_.

Prussia stopped talking right as America looked up into the trees in the direction of the sound. Tony had even stopped, but had his arms out as though encouraging an animal to jump down. Then America saw it.

A tan-and-white cat was perched delicately on a thick branch, startling green eyes studying the small party below. Ignoring Tony's open arms, the cat tilted its head before standing up and daintily walking back toward the trunk. Green eyes underneath bushy brows studied the small party before the cat turned its tail up and jumped for higher branches.

If America didn't know any better, he'd say that cat could have been the feline version of England.

A sharp whistle from Tony brought the cat down into view again, before it finally (reluctantly) jumped down into Tony's arms. Curling up in a familiar gesture, the cat rested its front paws on Tony's shoulder so that it could glare at the rest of the motley group. America could only wonder at what the cat could possibly be thinking – and when did England even get a cat to begin with? – but it finally turned around to get a better look at the house that Tony was approaching.

Now that they were getting closer, he could see that the house had changed even more. A black fence surrounded a crystal-clear pond that had a couple of fake bright yellow ducks floating around, and what looked like a large porch graced the back entrance. There were a few bits of broken blue and white pottery neatly scattered about in the grass near the porch edge. Black iron chairs and a table were positioned around the door, as though the owner had left in a hurry and moved the furniture aside to safely get through. A small black rectangular object sat on the table, which Tony took after promptly letting the cat down. The object disappeared into Tony's little bag of supplies – America couldn't figure out how he missed the bag, but it had been dark when he first met Tony – and the small party came to a stop as Tony walked up to the door and tugged on the handle, as though to slide it open.

America was sorely tempted to ask England what modifications had been done to the house. But, if the empire's stupefied expression was anything to go by, he himself had never seen this before either.

Tony then turned and walked over to Prussia. "Locked. Kick?" he asked, looking up at the albino.

"Let's see if we can pick the lock first. While I am all for destroying things, I like this set up," Prussia said as he walked up the few steps to the door. He paused to look through the window, and then said, "Junior?"

"Yes?" America said, looking up.

"You used to live here, right?"

"Yes… why?"

Prussia merely raised an eyebrow. "Something's wrong then," he said, kneeling down and picking at the lock with a long pin that had materialized out of nowhere. "I can't imagine you or Eyebrows decorating the interior like this."

England growled, and Canada carefully placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him from lunging at the German.

"Step back and let's get the door open, so I can see what you mean," America said, trying to hold back his impatience. Prussia nodded and stepped back to examine the lock, frowning as he went back at the lock with the pin.

As if to blatantly spite them, the cat approached a black rectangle in the door and, pushing the flap in with his head, disappeared within the house.

"Oh, what the hell," Prussia muttered as he put the pin back into his pocket. Taking two steps back, he leaned back and _kicked_ the door in, causing Tony to jump in surprise. The two doors shook, but didn't open. Startled, Prussia leaned forward and examined the doors, muttering, "That _should _have done the trick."

Tony sighed, and pushed America and Prussia aside. Before America could stop him though, the creature leaned back and then _punched_ through the glass next to the gold door handle. Seemingly unaware of the pain, Tony reached in and then began fiddling with the lock on the other side of the door.

"Alfred?"

Tony froze, as did the nations. America looked instinctively in the direction of what he realized was the next door neighbor; it was hard to see the woman who had spoken since the row of hedges between his house and the neighbor's was too high. "Alfred? Was that you, dear?" the woman called again.

America remained frozen, unable to speak. Tony solved the problem by driving his heel into America's foot, earning a yelp of surprise and pain from the colony.

"Alfred? Are you hurt? Should I call 911?"

For a moment, America remained silent, unsure of what to do. It wasn't until when Tony growled softly that he said, "Um, no thank you, I'm fine, no need to call anything." He also wasn't sure how calling three numbers could help him at all if he'd really been injured, a person could only shout so loud and there was no telling how far the nearest physician was.

"Are you sure?" The woman didn't sound as though she believed him. America fought down rising panic when he spotted a figure through the branches as the woman tried to move aside the hedges. He didn't know what was going on…

Tony suddenly moved and startled everyone by punching Canada hard on the shoulder, earning a surprised yelp from the Canadian. America was about to berate the creature when suddenly the woman said, "Oh. Alonso, it's just the boys again. Jones has that quiet one with him again, I'm guessing they locked themselves out again." Her voice faded as she evidently walked away. "Jones! Keep that stupid kid out of my yard, got it?" she shouted over her shoulder.

"Yes ma'am!" he called, unsure how else to reply. He was also taken aback at her addressing him by his surname in such a casual manner.

Tony replied by raising a hand with a single finger raised.

Then he turned and stuck his hand through the broken glass and undid the latch from the other side, pushing the door open. He gestured for them to follow him inside, and America went in first.

He was so taken aback at the sight that he abruptly stopped.

Almost everything was different. In the center of the room were a new rug, sofa, and table all facing a big flat black portrait attached to the wall, but had nothing on it. Strange objects and small portraits behind glass were scattered about on the walls, and several tall bookshelves lined the wall next to the glass doors. There were two halls leading from the room; assuming that the floor plan hadn't changed, one led off to the kitchen and the other to the hall that led to the front door. The room also had small tables with stranger objects on them, and long white cords lined the halls and attached themselves to the walls.

"Wow," Canada breathed, startling America. "Arthur, did you-"

"No, I do not recognize any of this," England said curtly as he bent down to study one of the smaller portraits. Frowning, he said, "I do not recognize anyone here either."

"Still, I like it," Prussia said, poking one of the decorations, a large vase with a vibrant floral pattern on it. "Even if most of this doesn't look like anything I have seen before."

"Yes." America bent down to examine one of the nearby portraits. The afternoon sunlight illuminated the only figure, a woman wearing trousers (America had to swallow down his shock at the woman's audacity) standing near a large contraption that looked like something out of a copy of an Italian manuscript that England had once brought to show him. There was an inscription in the corner, that read, '_Al, thank you for believing in me and helping me learn to fly. –Millie E._ Then, in semi-familiar handwriting in the bottom corner, someone had written, '_May 31__st__, 1937, Miami FL_'. America's attention however caught onto one word.

1937.

"Um, Canada?" he asked, glancing nervously at his brother, who was skimming through a book titled _'Chicken Soup for the Cat Lover's Soul'_. "Canada," he repeated when the latter didn't respond right away.

"Hm?" Canada looked confused for a moment. "What's wrong?" he asked, noting America's panicked expression.

"This portrait has the date '1937' on it, can you find a calendar? I don't think it's 1781 anymore," America said, scanning the room as Prussia picked up a book that said '_A History of US_' in gold letters across the cover.

"Also find out how they made the portraits this small," England said over his shoulder as he knelt to study the one on the table next to the sofa. America glanced at it to find that it was black and white instead of color, and had an image of a woman with a scrawled signature in the corner.

"Uh, excuse me?" Canada said as Tony wandered back into the living room from the kitchen. The creature tilted his head at Canada, who smiled apologetically. "I'm looking for a calendar, what is today's date?" he asked nervously.

There was a moment of silence, broken only by Prussia flipping through the pages of the history book he had in his hands, and the scraping of wood as France picked up a blue, red and white patterned book that said _Webster's Dictionary_ on the front, examining its size before opening it. Then Tony sighed and pulled out the device that America remembered having the dates on it. Turning around, he pointed to the blue display that read _09 27 2012 _and tapped the number.

There was silence, and then America blurted out, "Are we _two hundred and thirty one years in the future?_"

Tony, despite not having a proper mouth, managed to look incredibly guilty.

"Where are we?" England snapped, straightening as he turned to look at Tony.

America ignored him. "We're in Virginia, aren't we? Well, my Virginia but two hundred and thirty one years in the future, aren't we?" he said, trying to ignore the cold horror that was creeping up his limbs.

He glanced back to find England examining random points in the ceiling and on top of furniture. "The fae are still here, I can see them," he said finally, his brow furrowing in concern as he studied the spot between the cat and the edge of the bookshelf. "But they won't approach me, or any of us for that matter. Something has them frightened…" his voice trailed off as he stared outside, completely perplexed. For once, America was glad that France and Prussia kept their mouths shut because while he didn't fully believe in the fae anymore, England's stories of them were enough of a warning. A spooked faerie was a dangerous one indeed.

England carefully approached the bookshelf, but stopped. "They won't let me get close enough to speak," he said, finally retreating back to the center of the room.

"Any other things we have to worry about?" Prussia asked, the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Well, the unicorn is right outside the door, so for now we're stuck _inside_ or it will try to run us through… I do not understand this," England said slowly, looking back outside.

"Good, because neither do I," Prussia grumbled.

_Bzzzzz. Bzzzzz_.

The nations flinched at the audible buzzing sound, which broke whatever concentration England had had in that moment. America glanced at the table, and saw it was the black rectangular object, except the face wasn't blank anymore. An image that said '_Welcome to Las Vegas!_' on a large sign in the dying sunlight was now on the object's face, and a transparent black box was obscuring part of the image. White letters read _Incoming Call: Jessica Norwood_ appeared in the black box, to which Tony nervously pushed the object away from the edge of the table. After a few series of buzzes, the object went still again, and the words '_You have (1) missed call(s)' _appeared next in the transparent black box.

_Brrrrring!_

The five of them weren't the only ones to react to the shrill sound. Tony jumped a good foot in the air before immediately latching onto America, nearly sending the colony into Canada and England. America didn't even try holding Tony; the alien was _heavy_ and he wasn't expecting the sudden weight, so America promptly dropped him, earning a surprised yelp. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," he said when Tony glared at him for a moment. Prussia meanwhile had jumped into the bookshelf, sending several books to the floor and some onto France's foot, startling the empire even more.

_Beep!_

"_Hey Alfred, it's me, Jess. Mr. Maury from the Department of Homeland Security wants to schedule a one-on-one meeting with you about your security detail for the diplomatic trip to Cairo in a couple of weeks, he'd feel better about the whole affair if he knew you were actually paying attention to him for once. Speaking of which, Ms. Ridley from the Pentagon wants to look over those proposals __before__ the conference on Wednesday, so please get those done tomorrow so the two of you can coordinate before the meeting. Also, before I forget, Rita called me to ask if it was all right to stay with you while she's in town, and I told her that I thought it would be fine, but to call you first_," a cool, unfamiliar female voice said. America looked wildly around for the speaker, but couldn't see her. "_Call me as soon as you get this message, __please_."

There was another click, and then silence.

"Who was that?" America blurted out.

"More importantly, where is she?" France said, grinning as he looked around the room for the speaker.

Tony just sighed before shaking his head. Then he turned to leave again, but then jumped when the black object began buzzing again.

America watched in fascination as the object displayed the same picture again and a variation of the first message. Instead of 'Jessica Norwood', the name read 'Mathias Kohler'.

"Kohler… that name sounds familiar," Prussia remarked, frowning as he picked up the book he'd just dropped. "Another personification, I think, one of the northerners."

"You would know," England replied darkly as the object beeped.

"_Hey Al. Listen, we can't finish our game tonight because Gilbert's gone off with the Frenchie and the Spaniard after Lili again. Vash is outta town for the week and left this morning, so those three are out of commission until either Vash comes back or Lili gives Gilbert the boot. Oh, and Nor just restocked his fridge, so I need to head on over to make sure that he didn't buy anything poisonous. Did you survive the weekend with Kirkland and Tony under the same roof? I've got a three hundred dollar bet going with Ice over whether Kirkland and Tony tried to drive the other out, we'll give you ten percent if you tell us who won. Call me back ASAP!"_ said an unfamiliar male voice before there was the now expected _click_ signifying the end.

America heard faint giggling in the room, which, especially given England's suspicious glance around the room, was probably from the fae. Prussia and France however were now watching each other as though thinking.

Prussia spoke first. "Whoever that was knew me, Bonnefoy here, and Carriedo. Vash…he's that crazy mercenary that's one of my brother's neighbors, I've heard his name before. I've never heard of a 'Lili' before though…" he said, glancing at France, who shook his head.

"I suspect that she, if she is a personification, is either under your brother's rule or is somehow still independent," France replied, smoothing his uniform out. "As for the speaker, I do not know who he is."

"One of the Scandinavians. He referenced Norway," England said, scowling. Looking around the house, he said, "I will not allow anyone associating with _them_ to own this house, not when I built the damn thing in the first place."

America decided to let the ownership claim slide for now. He knew that England had had bad experiences with the Scandinavians in the past, but England refused to go into specifics until he was much, _much_ older.

Now though, that wasn't ever going to happen.

America told himself that he didn't care about what England did or didn't do anymore.

"So, who does own this house now?" he asked, turning to Tony.

Before Tony could answer, they all heard the scraping of a key in a lock. America realized with a jolt of absolute horror that the owner was back. Fear immobilized him even as the front door, which was down the hall from the living room, creaked open and an oddly familiar voice called out, "Tony, I'm hoooo-oome!"

* * *

**A/N: Internets to anyone who caught the Teacup Graveyard, as introduced in the 'prequel' **_**One Weekend**_**. You do not need to have read that one in order to understand this one.**

**The photograph: 'Millie' was the nickname for Amelia Earhart when she was growing up. On June 1****st****, 1937, she and her navigator would leave Miami, Florida for the ill-fated trip around the world, and would disappear a month or so later. **


	5. Close

**V**

**Close**

* * *

Tony reacted before America fully registered the implications of getting caught.

He seized France's coat, causing the empire to drop the dictionary with an audible _thump _on the floor. Grabbing everyone he could, Tony started _shoving_ the four of them toward what America realized was a hall closet of some sort.

"Dude, I hope for your sake that wasn't the vase that Mrs. Madison gave me back in 1816 as a gift," the semi-familiar voice said, drifting down the hall as Tony managed to cram an unresisting France into the closet immediately after England. America, who just didn't want to get caught, managed to get in right at the same time as Prussia. "Two thi- Tony? Where are you? Tony? You're still here, right? And didn't let any strangers in again?" the voice added anxiously as there was a _clinking_ of metal against stone, as well as the rustle of something America didn't recognize.

America silently applauded Tony's acting abilities as the creature said very calmly, "Over here," while walking away from the closet.

England meanwhile was not happy about the cramped quarters. Shouldering France away from him, he turned around as though to snarl something when they all heard the anonymous speaker say, "Geez, you had me worried there for a moment." England stepped on France's foot in the few seconds of silence, but to his credit, France didn't react, just gritted his teeth and scowled. They both froze again when they heard the owner say, "Anyway, like I said. Two things. One, I've got the pepperoni pizza pockets as according to our agreement on Friday night. But _two_… I think Arthur was being nice about it, because I know the kitchen wasn't an accident."

America glanced at England the same time France and Prussia did before a realization hit America: while the speaker could have known a different Arthur, it was highly unlikely because he'd just placed where he'd heard that man's voice before. He heard it every day after all.

"Is that _me?_" he whispered, wondering if he looked as shocked as England did. America glanced at Prussia as though for help. "_Well?_"

"Easy there, this could just be another American, the accent sounds different from yours," Prussia whispered back, looking just as confused as America felt.

"Speaking of cats, did Britannia come in?" The owner was now in the living room, not too far from where the three of them were hiding. "Okay, cat, check. Phone, check," the man added, and there was a slight sound as he picked up the device – _phone_ – off the table it had been sitting on. Then there was a faint clunk as he set it back down. "Y'know Tony, I really appreciate it when you put up with Arthur when he comes over. Even when I was still a colony, he couldn't stay as long as I wanted him to. Those were lonely years, waiting for him to come back." There was a muffled _thump_ as the speaker collapsed on something soft, but America felt his eyes grow wide as he realized that there was no doubt it was him out there. Well, an older version anyway. Judging from England's stunned expression, he couldn't believe it either, that America had made it that far without British assistance.

Which meant he won the Revolution.

America _almost_ cheered aloud in celebration.

"I thought you cut diplomatic ties," Tony said, startling America and reminding him of the current predicament.

"Yeah, _completely_. It wasn't for another hundred or so years before we spoke to each other again, and even then it was out of absolute necessity. As for the fifties, well, that was still rocky because for starters, he was still refusing to admit that I had to save his butt a _second_ time, and then there was Ivan to worry about…Come to think of it, I still have to worry about him, don't I?"

America wished desperately that he knew what his older self was talking about. Knowing about the future was only so helpful if it didn't make any sense. Then again, he found that despite the current problems, he still wanted to talk to his older self, find out if they became an important nation in the world despite England's threats otherwise. How did they win the Revolution? What else was going to happen that he had to prepare for? How could he get the edge over England and keep it?

"What are you doing?"

America jumped, but then realized that Tony was talking to his older self. Not him. Risking a chance, he eased the closet door open to get a peek.

He couldn't see the other man's face because he was kneeling with his back to America, picking up the books that France and Prussia had managed to scatter around before he showed up. "Cleaning up. I swear I didn't leave these books on the floor before I left," the man said, picking up the history book that Prussia had been reading. Pausing to look at the page it was still open to, he sighed. "Ah, Appomattox Courthouse. I still remember having to escape Washington D.C. in order to properly end the war with… with him," he said quietly as he shut it. Putting it on top of the stack of books, he added, "Did you tear through my history section or something?"

"Sorry, there was a fly," Tony said.

Prussia bristled at the insult, but America scowled at him in warning to remain quiet.

"Was this what fell earlier?" the man asked, picking the dictionary up and starting a new stack.

"Cat knocked _that_ one over," Tony lied, ignoring the soft hiss from the cat that was perched on top of the bookshelf. France preened a bit but didn't say anything; he was more occupied with making sure that England stayed on the opposite side of the closet from him.

America glanced back at the two empires as his older self and Tony discussed the neighbor, a Mrs. Nelson, and someone from a place called 'San Diego'. It was a small closet that the four of them were in cramped quarters, something America was used to, but the dark looks between the empires threatened escalation. Both France and England were used to having their own territories that didn't cross into the other's space, and this included cramped hall closets that had a few coats hanging in their faces. At the moment however, they'd taken to discreetly shoving each other. Prussia, like America, looked faintly annoyed at the two of them as he kept his ear pressed to the door (after shutting the crack that America had opened). Neither America nor Prussia could hear the harsh whispers between the two men, but America suddenly wondered what would happen if his older self caught them there. He knew that a person changed with time, and could only imagine what two hundred and thirty one years did to him…

_Thunk!_

England swore silently as he clutched his elbow, France trying very hard not to start laughing right there and then. America bit down on his own sleeve as he tried not to laugh at England's pained expression, and Prussia rolled his eyes. "You two _need_ to be quiet, there's no telling what will happen if we're cau-" the albino began in a harsh whisper.

"All right guys, you have two minutes to come out from wherever you're hiding. I'm feeling generous today, so if you show up and return everything you've taken, I'll give you a five minute head start before I call the cops," the man – did he go by 'America' or 'Alfred' with strangers? America silently called his older self 'Alfred', just not to get confused once the man discovered them. "I've got a lot of work to do tonight, and you're only going to make me cranky if I'm up late because you delayed me."

England took advantage of the distraction to elbow France in the gut, sending the other empire into the wall, his head making a dull _clunk_ as it hit the back.

"C'mon, contrary to popular opinion, I'm not stupid!" Alfred shouted. "Don't make me come and get you!"

The four froze when they heard the floorboards creaking under the man's footsteps. America tried to think of a backup plan or better yet, an explanation of their presences that wouldn't panic Alfred and make them sound crazy. He glanced at Prussia, who, to his surprise, was looking unnaturally calm as though he had a plan. Then he leaned away from the Prussian when the latter pulled out a thin knife and pointed it straight at England, causing both men to still. Prussia then coughed into a sleeve, clearing his throat as the floorboard creaks got closer, and then said in a slightly higher voice, "Oh, but my dear America, would you truly treat an old friend in such a harsh manner?"

Silence. Then a whispered, "Did you hear that?"

Tony played his part well. "Hear what?" they heard the creature say.

More silence. Then, "H-Ha, ha, _ha_, Mattie. Good one, you almost had me there," Alfred said, but America could still detect the tremors of familiar fear in his voice. "I can't still believe you're still mad about-"

"Guess again, little America," Prussia almost sang, looking smug now that he had the voice down for sure. America almost wanted to ask '_Mad about __what__?'_ but didn't dare ruin Prussia's plan, he still needed the man's help. Meanwhile, handing the knife to America to keep pointing at France and England, Prussia added, "I can only be one person… or entity."

More silence. America still had no idea where Prussia was going with this, but the albino winked when Alfred audibly gulped and then demanded, "S-Show yourself!" It came out more of a shout that ended in a squeak.

America made a mental note that should this ever happen to him in the future, he would be extremely careful _not_ to make that squeaking sound.

"Now sit back and watch the magic begin," Prussia whispered, grinning broadly. He laughed coldly, as though it was England and not a stranger he was facing down. Louder, he said, "Oh, but America, there's nothing to show but your deepest regrets."

More silence. America was now completely confused, but Prussia kept a finger to his lips to make the colony wait. America swallowed back the burning questions in his throat, and, judging from the confusion on England's face and polite curiosity on France's, they had no idea what was going on either.

_How much exactly changed in two hundred and thirty one years?_

"Confederacy," the man on the other side of the door began slowly. "There's no reason to start anything, the war's been over for more than a hundred years-"

"Why did you let me die? Why did you leave me for dead when you spoke of brotherhood and reuniting in peace?" Prussia hissed, doing an excellent personification of an angered spirit. Which, America realized, was what his older self thought Prussia was.

"Confederacy, we both knew that it was all or nothing." The footsteps were retreating away from the closet now. "One of us had to go, and I know Arthur liked you more at the time, but I think that's what made me the most scared about losing."

Prussia was growing more at ease with his role, his face contorting into a wounded expression as he replied with, "Did it never occur to you that I might have been just as frightened? Daddy liked me best after all." He glanced at the others and whispered quickly, "You three might want to cover your ears because it sounds like he might need an extra push out of the house very soon."

America almost asked how Prussia knew that when his older self said, "You on the other hand… I don't know how much he cared about you personally, but hey, why don't you ask him when I get him?" He sounded cheerful, but even America recognized barely concealed terror when he heard it.

Prussia inhaled and then bellowed, _"NO! I WILL DESTROY YOU FIRST!"_ He dissolved into mocking laughter that sounded painfully exaggerated to America.

Evidently his older self bought it. "_MATTIE!"_ A crash, the sound of a door opening, and then a fainter, "_MATTIEEEE!"_

Then silence.

America, fully aware of the danger behind him, shot out of the closet as soon as he could. Prussia, still laughing, shouldered his door open as France tipped off an imaginary hat to him. "More than two hundred years later, and you're _still_ afraid of ghosts?" he asked, grinning as America staggered slightly into the living room, immensely relieved to be out of the cramped quarters with _England_.

"Apparently," he replied, eyeing England warily. Clearly their history together didn't end at the Revolution, but rather continued. England however looked just as excited about it as he did, which was to say not at all. At least America knew he still talked to Canada, enough so that he could turn to his brother without restriction.

Speaking of which…

"Where's Canada?" he suddenly asked, realizing with a jolt of horror that his brother wasn't there, hadn't gotten to safety with them. The only thing keeping him from completely panicking was that his older self hadn't acknowledged his brother's presence.

"I'm over here," Canada said quietly. To America's surprise, the Canadian had been standing _in plain sight_ of the living room. Then America saw that the redcoat, once a hated symbol, had helped his brother blend into the curtains and thus escape notice. Then he noticed Tony perched on the couch, warily watching all five of them over the top of the seat.

"Tony, was that me? Older me?" he suddenly asked. Something about a confirmation, just to know that he wasn't completely losing his mind.

There was a momentary silence before Tony let out a whimper before shrinking from sight. America could only lean against the wall; he had no idea what to make of any of this. He glanced at his brother, and then repeated carefully, "Was it really me?"

Canada hesitated, and then reluctantly nodded. "Your voice sounded off, and you had glasses, but the hair curl was still the same," he admitted, shrugging with one shoulder. "That's what gave it away for me," he added, glancing out the window. America did as well, and did a double-take when he saw his older self running – in the opposite direction as before, if Tony's groan was anything to go by – down the street, nearly running into a large yellow contraption that blared noise after him. The five of them heard shouted apologies as a woman yelled after him.

"He's going north. Won't come back for a few days," Tony said from his perch on the couch, the most America had ever heard him speak in one sitting. "Brother will take care of him, and kick him out in a couple of days. They do this to each other all the time."

"Well, it's nice to know that we'll be seeing each other often," Canada said, finally settling down in a chair. He still looked as traumatized and confused as America felt. "But there were a lot of things that he said that didn't make any sense," he added, looking up at Prussia, who was now holding that book from earlier; _A History of Us._

"Yeah, what, or who, was Confederacy and how did you know to respond the way you did?" America asked, turning to Prussia. His eye fell on the book, and then he said, "That's my history, isn't it? It's all there?"

"It starts with your Declaration of Independence, but yes, that's the idea," Prussia said, watching America carefully and ready to move it out of his reach if necessary. "The only reason I can't let any of you have it quite yet is because out of the five of us, I play the smallest role in here, during your Revolution. That's why I can't let any of you have it yet," he added, easily moving it out of France's attempt at snatching it.

America was quiet for a moment before he glanced at his brother, who shook his head. "I'm not going to help you snatch it back. I may not be on Prussia's side in all of this, but there's got to be something against messing with history," Canada said, looking slightly pale at the thought. "I mean, we're already creating a problem just by being here." Glancing at Tony, he said, "Can you take us back now?"

Tony shook his head and raised the box. "Dead. Doesn't work every now and then, but I can't get back into my workshop because the stupid limey took the fucking key," he said, glaring at England in case there was any doubt as to who the 'limey' was.

"No backups of the key?" Prussia asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tony opened his mouth, stopped, leaned back thoughtfully, and then said, "Backup just left the house, won't come back for a while."

Translation: America's older self had it.

America hesitantly moved to sit back down on the couch. He glanced at the black portrait, and nearly jumped when he saw what looked like a human wrestling with an alligator instead of the blank portrait he was expecting. Splashed across the top of the box were the words 'Crocodile Hunter' in large green letters while what looked like names appeared below. "What?" was all he could manage saying.

"Teevee," Tony supplied helpfully, gesturing with a black device that had little colored dots down the front.

America just wondered how the hell were the five of them going to survive until they could all get home. He had a war to finish after all.


	6. Stuck

**VI**

**Stuck**

* * *

It didn't really occur to America how bad their current situation was until he woke up the next morning… still in 2012.

He lay in the large master bed, wondering if General Washington had noticed his disappearance yet even though he was also still processing everything that had happened so far: from Tony's antics to _hearing_ his older self to surviving last night. The night before had been crazy, to say the least. Tony had fed them something from the fancy icebox for supper. The food itself had come from cardboard packages and made France pale at the sight of it. America had also been stuck as the mediator; apparently Tony had little to no respect for the Europeans, and had gotten as far as daring France to bathe in the man-made pond (really something Tony called a 'swimming pool') when America sensed inherent danger and asked him to calm down.

Getting clean was something else new too.

Tony had refused to allow them remotely near the bedrooms until they'd cleaned off. Unlike back home, the water was readily available and America could even stand up while washing. Their military uniforms all disappeared while they were washing; Tony had said something about a washing machine and refused to tell them where he'd put their clothes. Instead, all five of them had been given large, thin shirts with extremely short sleeves and loose cotton pants, leaving America feeling naked even though he was clothed.

Then Tony had herded them to different rooms, muttering something about having to share since there wasn't quite enough for everyone to have their own. Canada and England were sharing one, France and Prussia another, and America got the master bedroom, which wasn't as heavily decorated as other parts of the house. There were mostly small portraits—_photographs_—scattered about on the walls and the small bedside table. America got the sense of comfort from the room, not hostility or coldness.

To his shock, there was even a photograph of _England_, on the bedside table. The Englishman was wearing something America didn't recognize; green jacket, pants, and black boots. No overflowing coats, pirate or British regalia, none of that. The England in the image wasn't looking straight ahead, rather, off to the side as he walked toward the viewer. The scrawl on the bottom said, _V-Day, May 1945_, and England looked tired, but at the same time, relieved.

It had felt wrong to touch that one, to put it face down so he wouldn't have to see his enemy as he fell asleep, but at the same time America was not comfortable with it. In the end, he'd placed a handkerchief over it.

Now though, he was lying on his back (on one of the best mattresses he'd had in a long time) staring at the ceiling, noting with a little twinge of happiness that the crack he'd made in his childhood was still there. That still reminded him of the current problem, of being stuck in 2012. He had a battle to plan, for goodness sake!

_That book downstairs. Who has it?_

Prussia had guarded _A History of US_ jealously all through last night, refusing even a peek. England had been too distracted trying to communicate with the fairies to bother Prussia, but that still left three more opponents for the Prussian. It was tempting to sneak into the guest bedroom and snatch it there, but America knew full well that France was also in there, and even though it was over two hundred years later, America knew better than to walk into a room with the Frenchman unannounced. Sneak attacks wouldn't work in that case.

He had to figure something else out…in addition to getting back to 1787.

_Knock, knock_.

"Come in," he said, abruptly sitting up. If it were an intruder, or worse: his older self, he suspected that the person wouldn't knock. Staff then? America had been rather puzzled at the lack of servants last night, and wondered if it was because it was a Sunday. England hadn't kept slaves when America was growing up, but perhaps his older self did; someone had to do the cleaning of the house, and he never did it when he was living by himself in the past. His past anyway.

This was going to be awkward to explain.

Tony was the one who pushed the door open. "Pancakes downstairs. We will figure out the time problem at breakfast. But the doctor is not an option."

"Doctor? Doctor who?" America asked, frowning.

Tony stared at him calculatingly for a minute. "Nobody. He's a thief and a liar," he said before leaving again, the door remaining open in his wake.

Even more confused, America got out of bed and followed him.

Canada was already downstairs, as was England, when America joined them. Canada was eating his way through a large stack that was dripping with a sauce that America thought he might recognize. Trying not to look at England (and not think of the photograph upstairs), America slid into an empty seat at the dining table next to Canada. Tony came out of the kitchen with another stack of pancakes and placed a golden bottle next to the plate. Eyeing it warily, America asked, "What is it?" while gesturing to the bottle.

"Maple syrup. You have no idea how happy I am to have it, I was worried people would stop tapping for it," Canada said between bites. "Tony said it's popular worldwide right now, and _I'm_ the primary producer."

"I'm just happy there's something familiar here," America said, carefully pouring it out onto his pancakes.

"England's been in a mood all morning," Canada whispered. "Apparently the fae recognize him now and know what happen. They'll answer his questions, but keep chirping the word 'spoilers' every time he asks about what's going on. It's driving him mad, but the fae apparently are being entertained."

"Because they know _I'm_ getting into trouble for this. Stupid fairies," Tony growled from where he was sitting at the table. "They throw things at me. Books, zaps, and they bite."

"Good," England muttered before going back to the conversation he was having with the saltshaker… or rather the fae that was standing on top of it, America could see a faint shimmer if he concentrated really hard on that one spot.

Turning to Tony, he said, "You said there was a doctor who could fix this?"

"A doctor? How on earth is a _physician_ going to help us?" England snapped, startling America.

"No, doctor can't help us. He hates me, I hate him. He is a liar and a thief," Tony growled, grip tightening on the fork. "Him and the stupid female he always goes around with."

America decided at that point that he was officially confused, and that keeping up was pointless since he had no idea of what was going on. "So if today is Monday here, does that mean it's Monday back in 1787?" he asked, glancing at Tony, who nodded.

"Prussia still has that book, doesn't he?" Canada asked thoughtfully.

"No. I took it last night. It's in the study, which is locked," Tony said curtly. He hesitated, and then said, "Real ghost is in there."

"Yes, I did feel an entity somewhere in the house. Small, but grieving." England tilted his head at Tony and said, "What is it, and why won't it move on?"

Tony was quiet for a few moments. "Tied to the people. Can't move on until they do," he said finally, red eyes glancing at America for a split second. "It's a ghost, but harmless. Limey tried to get rid of it. Limey stopped. It's still here. Stupid thing doesn't pay rent."

"I see," America said slowly even though he really didn't. He looked up at the sound of footsteps and raised an eyebrow when Prussia and France finally appeared. "Um… I know it's none of my business, but your, uh, shirts are switched," he said stiltedly as Tony got up and headed to the kitchen, pointing out the empires' seats as he left.

"Are they? I couldn't remember which one I had," Prussia said, flopping down into his seat next to Tony as France delicately pulled his chair out before sitting down on America's other side.

"Charming," England muttered before turning back to the saltshaker.

"And who took my book? I wasn't done reading it; I read the first pages I opened to yesterday, and that was in the 1860s, but then I went back to the beginning to read the whole thing. I only got as far as 1812," Prussia said, accepting the bottle of syrup. Turning to America, he said, "The book was primarily about you, but there were sections that were called 'Snapshots of Europe', and was giving the European situation at that time while you were doing your thing. France had just gotten this new boss."

"I cannot believe he was that short," France said, making a face. "I suppose I will have to see for myself when the time comes."

"I took it. It's locked away," Tony growled. "And I will _not_ let you go through America's things."

"So he _does_ live here. France and I were wondering about that, you know, when we weren't otherwise busy," Prussia said as he began attacking his food.

"Well, he showed up yesterday, remember?" Canada pointed out.

"Yeah, but we weren't entirely sure," Prussia countered. He paused, and then asked, "Speaking of which, when will he come back?"

"No idea, he has houses all over. Might even stay with him until his authorities drag him back," Tony said, nodding to Canada. "Happened two years ago at the Olympics."

"The _what_?" England repeated, looking as confused as America felt.

"How's this. No more talking about the future until I've had a chance to wake up," Prussia said before going back to his food. "Is there any thing to drink like tea or coffee?"

"Only coffee. Sorry," Tony said, looking at England, who scowled.

"All right. Coffee all around, I'm still trying to figure out if I had too much to drink at some point and this is still part of the hangover," Prussia said, rubbing his forehead, still looking somewhat sleepy.

"_Mon ami_, this is not your house. No strong drinks here," France said, sadly shaking his head.

"Shut up."

Tony soon returned with a large pot that had, to America's shock, a _ton_ of coffee in it. He placed the pot down on a square of granite, and then passed out mugs all around. England's eye twitched when tony put down in front of him one that had an image of a drawn ship in a large teacup that said _Boston Tea Party 1776_ on it. Honestly, America was surprised that England hadn't tried to kill Tony yet. That or the British empire was now just biding his time. America's mug meanwhile had the words '_Seattle, WA-Home of Starbucks'_ written across the side with a green and white logo of a woman.

"Well, are we going to go back home today?" Canada asked hopefully, glancing at Tony. His face fell slightly when Tony shook his head. "If you don't mind me asking then, why not?"

"Need to fix gizmo, but America has workshop key. My America. Stupid limey took my key, but America has spare," Tony replied, scowling at England, who flipped him off. "In the meantime, stay out of trouble."

"Can we explore?" Prussia asked, pausing, as did America.

Tony glowered at the two of them. "Break anything, and I'll break _you_."

Prussia blinked. "He must have been fun to have around while he was growing up," he muttered to France, who nodded.

America knew, even as he was putting his dish in the sink as Tony instructed, that he and Prussia were thinking of only one thing: the history book.

Drying his hands on the borrowed pants, he ducked out of the kitchen and began prowling through the halls looking for the study. There were more photographs out here, along with coats hanging in a closet and one carelessly tossed over a chair. Prussia joined him while he was still looking around in the front hall.

"I still can't believe the nasty little bastard took the book while I was asleep, I was reading it!" he complained as he followed America around, the two of them ducking into rooms and nudging hall closet doors open in the off chance it happened to be the study. "I mean, I even had sex with France because we _both_ knew Tony wouldn't go near us with a ten meter pole if he knew what we were up to, and then we could keep looking at that book at our leisure." Throwing his hands up in frustration, Prussia added despondently, "It was _foolproof_!"

"I… I didn't need to know _all_ of that," America finally said, grimacing at the unwanted mental image. The two headed down another hall, pushing doors open until America ran into one that was locked. "Prussia… I think I found it!"

He cupped his hands around his face to get a better look inside, but it was too dark to really see anything. Stepping aside to let Prussia take a look, he glanced up and down the hall in case Tony showed up.

"Well, we can try kicking the door down, that always works. The only problem would be if we accidentally broke something because we didn't see it. I don't know about you, Junior, but I don't want Tony breaking anything of _mine_," Prussia said, kneeling down after taking a look through the window. Peering at the lock, he said, "If you can find me something long and sharp, I can try poking at this to unlock it."

"Like _what_?" a voice growled near America.

Both nations jumped when they found Tony standing there, his arms crossed. "What are you doing?" Tony hissed, scowling when he saw Prussia attempting to pick the lock, even with him standing there. "Don't make me-"

America never heard the rest of the threat.

There was a loud _BANG _that echoed throughout the house, causing the three of them to freeze. America felt his breath catch in his throat when he heard familiar footsteps enter the house, along with the snuffling of an animal and the lighter footsteps of a second person.

"_All right ghosties!_" a familiar voice yelled, a loud, grinding sound accompanying his words. "_It's ghost-bustin' time! Starting with the loser in the front hall closet!"_

America's older self was home.

And it didn't sound like he was going to leave quietly or easily this time.

* * *

**A/N: Addressing this now because it might come up later. Please do remember that this story is from Revolution!America's perspective, and that for him, slavery is still acceptable. Obviously this misconception will be corrected, but it's just forewarning. Older!America will of course be against it, but Revolution!America has not yet experienced the Civil War. **


	7. Ambush

**VII**

**Ambush**

* * *

Alfred F. Jones was completely prepared to deal with his unwanted ectoplasmic houseguest the morning after it drove him out.

And if his enthusiasm had more to do with the extra caffeine consumed that morning than anything else, well, that was his business.

"I still think we should talk to Jess before we do this, just so she at least knows you're back in the country," Matthew complained as he got out of the car with Alfred. Heading toward the back, he added, "You know, so she can stop bothering _my_ people."

"I'll have my people call your people about that," Alfred replied with a straight face, only breaking posture when Matthew threw a half-empty water bottle at him. Ducking, he said, "Next thing you know, you'll be telling me we should call Arthur about this, since he's the master at kicking ghosts out of houses."

"We're not allowed to do that anymore, Francis threatened to cut off trade networks with the two of us if we did," Matthew said, grimacing. "All because you wanted what you _thought_ was the ghost of Marquis de Lafayette out of the federal building downtown. Not only did it turn out to be a poltergeist, but also Arthur sent it to Francis's house in Marseilles. What I'm trying to say here is, what if it's not Confederacy, but another ghost that just happens to dislike you?"

"Biggest regret, Mattie, it said, 'I am your biggest regret'," Alfred said impatiently as he opened the trunk. "Now help me get this monster into the house."

Matthew sighed, and hoisted the back end of the large contraption as Alfred pulled out the front end and the nozzle. "You owe me a new vacuum cleaner, along with everything else you gutted for this," he grumbled as Alfred shut the trunk with a foot.

"Don't worry, Mattie. I've got this all under control," Alfred said, readjusting his grip on the machine. "I swear though, if Tony pulled this on me just so he could have another party without me here, I'm going to start charging rent."

"He did that once?"

"Yeah, when we were having the conferences back in Prague, the year Gilbert let those terrorists in by accident," Alfred said as he started to walk slowly toward the front door. He was already planning his attack, and knew to approach the problem as though there were multiple ghosts because really, one couldn't be too careful. "Ready?" he asked.

"No."

"All right, on the count of three, we're going to charge in there. I'll kick the door down, and we go straight to the hall closet and suction-cup the idiot in there and then I'll deal with it later," Alfred said, eyeing his hastily-thrown together contraption that, if it worked properly, would suck the ghost out of the closet and store it until he could get rid of it. "Maybe I should have the Winchesters look this over before I use it…"

"No. No, no, no, no. Not after they brought those two demons to my house just because you were spooked by something on our shared border," Matthew snapped as he nudged Alfred with a foot toward the door. "Come on, let's get this over with. Kuma, keep up," he added as the bear finally pushed the passenger car door open and lumbered after them, sniffing along the ground as though searching for food.

"I think I left snacks for him in the kitchen. And I promise to feed you breakfast after we get rid of whatever the heck is in my house."

"After all the trouble you've made me go through on a _Monday_, I'm expecting full reparations at this rate," Matthew grumbled as the two approached the house. "Not to mention the dramatics I know you're about to do."

"Whatevs." Alfred examined the door and said, "Stand back."

"Case and point," Matthew muttered under his breath.

Alfred leaned back and _kicked_ the front door open, marching bravely inside as he revved up the machine threateningly. "_All right ghosties!"_ he shouted into the empty house, "_It's ghost-bustin' time, starting with the loser in the front hall closet!"_ Cackling to himself, he stormed in, Kumajirou darting between him and Mattie in a bid for the kitchen down the hall. Glancing around the entrance hall, he said, "Mattie, you ready to bust the idiot in the closet?"

"Didn't Arthur tell you to leave this one alone, like, sixteen hundred times?" Matthew asked wearily as he followed Alfred into the house. "I'm not getting paid enough to put up with you sometimes."

"Well, consider it paybacks for inflicting that brat singer of yours on the rest of the world, especially _me_. Do you know how much crap I get from everyone else because they all assume he's American?" Alfred complained as he dragged the machine (and Matthew) to the front hall closet. It was now or never, he was going to lose his nerve if he didn't do anything. Letting out a war cry from his colonial days, he charged forward, slamming the closet doors open with the nozzle. He searched around for the ghost, and frowned when he found nothing but shoes and jackets.

"Oh, how threatening. A winter coat," Matthew said dryly from where he was standing.

"Shut up, there really was something here," Alfred protested, moving the clothes with the machine nozzle, scowling when he found nothing. "Maybe he moved to the living room, the little rat…" Forgetting about Matthew, he dragged machine and brother into the next room, ignoring his brother's half-French, half-English insults (some of which he hadn't heard since they were colonies). "Do you kiss Francis with that mouth?" he asked the second there was a pause in the tirade.

_Whing!_

He ducked to avoid the second water bottle; sailing over his head, he grimaced when he heard it crash in the living room. "It's definitely a good thing that Arthur doesn't live with us anymore, he would have skinned the two of us alive for that."

"No, he would have hit you way before now for the vacuum contraption thingy. We're leaving streaks on the carpet," Matthew said, glancing back at the muddy tread marks on the cream carpet.

"Really? Stan owes me anyway. The guy who owns the carpet-cleaning company that is," Alfred said, glancing around the living room. The water bottle had knocked the television remote off the coffee table, but more importantly, he found cardboard remains of what used to be a box of ice cream cones in the freezer. He paused, and then asked, "What are the odds that it was Tony getting rid of me so he could have another house party?"

"Well, I would have said 'zero', because who would he have the party _with_, but the term 'another' seems to imply that he's does it regularly," Matthew said, setting down the machine so that he could examine the empty box.

"Remember when you were here two years ago and the President's kids were on sugar highs and no one could figure out where the sugar was coming from?" Alfred asked, glancing at Matthew.

"Don't tell me…"

"Tony had emptied out my freezer in revenge for me losing his workshop keycard the first time. Luckily, there was a nice lady from Atlanta who returned it when she came to DC on business," Alfred said, scowling at the few dirty dishes sitting on his table. "Oh, _come on!_ I swear, it's like burglars are attracted to this house," he complained, dropping the contraption without warning. "Tony! You have ten seconds to get your pals out of here!"

Silence.

Alfred closed his eyes and silently counted to ten. Then to twenty. Then to thirty. He already had bickering politicians, a feuding Congress, an irritated brother, a soon-to-be-irritated Arthur, a pissed off housemate, and a polar bear on the verge of eating him out of the house again. He did _not_ need this on top of everything else. He tried to expand his nation senses to get a better idea of who was in the vicinity. He'd be able to detect any non-Americans on this region of soil.

His eyes flew open as he stared up to the second floor.

Granted, he couldn't detect the nationalities, but there were four patches of _wrongness_ upstairs, four people who shouldn't be up there. "Matt, take a bat. Four intruders upstairs, two are yours, two are mine. Try not to kill anyone though, not in the mood for legal lawsuits," he said, glancing back at his brother, who nodded. "Chase them out if you can, but if you have to…"

"I know, I know. I haven't forgotten that stint we did up near Niagara Falls," Matthew said, repressing a sigh as he walked with Alfred to the pantry cupboard where Alfred kept the two baseball bats.

"Really? I just remember that we went over the falls and Arthur almost murdered us for doing something, and I quote, 'demonstrates the blatant stupidity that is becoming less of an isolated case and more of the norm with adolescents nowadays'," Alfred said, mimicking the Englishman's accent as he grinned at the memory. "Don't know what he was complaining about, our people did it and survived. You know, except for the one or two who didn't," he added as he handed over a bat to Matthew.

"I think it was less that we were doing it, and more of the fact that you told him, 'what's the point of immortality if you can't test it out every now and then'?" Matthew said as the two of them began to climb the stairs. "Although, to be fair, we were also on a bit of a time schedule since Arthur was still fretting about Her Majesty's Diamond Jubilee, and hadn't even thought twice about the Olympics at that point," he pointed out as they reached the top of the stairs. "And for the record, Alfred, you are _not_ immortal…"

"I'm sorry, how many times did I die during World War Two and still came back to kick Ludwig's butt?" Alfred asked, winking at his brother.

"Seventy-two, and that's in the European theater alone. Only God knows what you did while over in the Pacific," Matthew grumbled. "I would know, I was the one who dragged your sorry hide back to camp each time to keep your troops from thinking that you were a German experiment."

"Huh. Is that why Patton got twitchy every time something happened? I meant to ask, but it slipped my mind," Alfred said, expanding his senses. "Okay, one in the master bath, two in the guest room, and one in the attic."

"I'll take the two in the guest room, you can have the master bath, and we can tackle the attic together. You're still twitching, which tells me that you're still expecting a ghost despite your chatter otherwise," Matthew said, hoisting the bat to rest on his shoulder. Then he said, "Kuma's still downstairs, isn't he?"

"Yeah. Replace the food he eats and I'll replace all the equipment that I stole from you. Deal?" Alfred offered.

"Throw in a bottle of syrup and we have a deal."

"Dude, you say that my stuff is crap and then you want it. What is the big idea?" Alfred complained as he stood in front of the open door to the master bedroom.

"All that matters for me is that it's free," Matthew said, grinning before disappearing into the guest room.

Alfred rolled his eyes and went into the master bedroom, tapping the bat into his other hand as he walked into the room. "All right, buddy, I really don't want to get messy about this, I'm been having a hell of a week already. You being here is not helping at all," he said, scanning the room for any signs of disturbance. "It makes me even _more_ angry that you're here in my personal space," he added, pulling a white silk handkerchief off the photograph he'd snuck of Arthur from V-Day. Placing the handkerchief reverently on the dresser, he considered getting down on all fours to check under the bed, but then decided that he'd be at serious disadvantage in case of an ambush.

He was reaching for the closed door that led to the bathroom when he heard a loud _thunk_ from the other room. "Matt?" he yelled, stilling in his tracks. He listened for a few moments, but all he could hear was his own thudding heartbeat. "_Matt?_" he repeated when he didn't hear a reply.

"Okay, I'm okay!" Matthew shouted back, voice muffled. "I just, uh, tripped!"

"Do you need back up?" Alfred asked, shouldering his own bat as he left the master bedroom and headed for the guest bedroom.

"Nope, keep looking in the master rooms! I'm fine, I'm fine," Matthew said, and Alfred paused, glanced back at the master bathroom, and then shook his head and left the master bedroom.

"Dude, I need to make sure you're all right," he said, warily hoisting up the bat to whack the first person to come through. Tapping on the now-closed door with the tip of the bat, he added, "Preferably _now_."

The door promptly opened, and Matthew came out, still gripping the bat and looking a little shaken. "Close call with the bed sheets."

"Hell, really?" Alfred shouldered past his brother, easily for once. Scowling, he took note of the messy sheets and the half-open closet. "Dammit Tony, what did I say about sleepovers after the fiasco of 1969?" he complained as he turned around the room. Someone had done an excellent job of messing the entire room up. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Alfred said, "Oh, _come on_ Tony, it was a damn _mistake_. Geez Louise, it is _not_ an invitation to mess things up and invite people over." Glancing around in the hall outside, Alfred muttered, "Coward, won't even come out to face me."

"Why is he here if he's such a pain?" Matthew asked, frowning.

"Because he's also my best friend and I can't very well kick him out. Although I might have to move him to a different house or better yet, send him to Rita's house. She loves having him over, he only doesn't like it because she speaks primarily Spanish and Tony and Izzy have _never_ gotten along," Alfred said, shaking his head in dismay.

" 'Izzy'?" Matthew repeated, bewildered.

"Our sister, genius. You know, Mexico? I swear we haven't gotten along since the Mexican-American war but at this point, I cannot remember who started that one. You wouldn't either; you and Arthur were still sulking over the War of 1812. I think Arthur started that one. Oh no wait, I did," Alfred said, frowning as he thought back to those points in particular. "But it meant Arthur left me alone after that."

Matthew just looked confused as he followed Alfred out of the hall and back towards the staircase.

"Anyway, Rita's been attached to Tony ever since they first met because she likes to have someone around her height. Apparently I, along with you and Izzy and Antonio, we're all 'hulking giants', although I swear she's exaggerating because I was just barely over six feet last time I checked and my national average height is not getting any taller. Last I checked anyway," Alfred said, reaching into a pocket and coming up empty-handed. "Whoops, forgot my phone. I knew I'd forgotten something. I'm going to call Jessie so she can get her irritation out of her system so that it'll be sunshine and daisies when we get back to work tomorrow." Alfred paused halfway down the stairs, and then, glancing back at his brother, said, "Well, as sunshine and daisies as you can get on Capitol Hill, I swear that at least _half_ of those politicians haven't even _seen_ the sun in weeks. Of course, that's more than I can say for what Arthur gets on a yearly basis…"

"Have you even _been_ to London lately?" Matthew finally asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not since August, why, have you?" Alfred asked, stopping again to glance at Matthew, who shook his head.

"Don't have time for the trip… busy and everything…"

"I won't tell Arthur you said that. I _know_ you flew off to Paris for six _months_ before the Olympics, and now you're telling me you don't have time to visit _Arthur?_ At this rate, people are going to think that _I'm_ part of the Commonwealth and not you since I'm over in London more frequently than you are." Alfred stopped again at the thought, bracing himself on the stairs as Matthew walked straight into him. He shuddered and then said; "Now there's a terrifying thought. Tell Arthur I said that and I won't talk to you for a week."

"Um, okay."

"No, seriously. I won't talk to you for a week, all I gotta do is move south for a week and put up with Isabella calling me every other day just because we can't agree on border policies," Alfred said, shuddering even more at the thought. "Or maybe skip on over to Puerto Rico and hide out at Rita's, I can avoid both of you at once…"

"Or not, now that I know where you are."

"Dude, I've just given you three possible locations, four if you include a trick trip to the Northeast," Alfred said as he came to the bottom of the stairs and began walking toward the living room where he picked up the house landline. Turning around, he kept his bat braced on his shoulder as he dialed Jess' office number.

He waited, but frowned when he heard the answering machine "Hi Jessie, it's me, Alfred. Wanted to let you know that I, er, came back. To the U.S. With Mattie. And there are people in my house, along with a ghost. Can you please come get the ghost? And if there isn't a ghost, can you call the police? Preferably before I whack someone? They've already attacked Mattie, but he's perfectly fine. Anyway, house key is where I usually leave it, if for some reason I can't get to the door. Talk to you later," Alfred said, before hitting the 'End' button. Sighing, he turned around to leave the living room. "Matt, do you think-"

_WHAM!_

Alfred blinked, staring up at the ceiling. How the hell did he suddenly end up on the floor like that? His head throbbed in two places; where the bat had made contact with it from behind and where his head had made contact with the living room floor. He was quiet for another moment, watching his brother's imposter carefully step closer while clutching the bat. "You're not Mattie, are you?" he finally asked.

The imposter hesitated, and then quickly shook his head.

"Yeah, thought so," Alfred said, letting a breath out slowly. "He would have hit me hard enough that I would have been unconscious for the next week, we've tried that. One more question before I pass out."

"Um… okay…" the imposter said hesitatingly, and Alfred could now see how the other's eyes were blinking rapidly behind the glasses; he couldn't see well. Just as Alfred couldn't see very far without his, those had been knocked away somewhere.

"Are you the personification of the United States of Colombia?" Alfred asked with perfect seriousness.

The imposter stared at him. "_What?_ Erm, no…" he said, nervously backing away as a blurry figure slowly approached the two of them.

"Okay, just had to check. His England is _so_ incredibly cranky that just remembering it is making the migraine worse," Alfred said calmly as two more blurry figures joined the first. "Now, if you hurt my real brother, I am going to kick you into next week. So it might be a good idea to make sure he's all right because I rarely get that aggressive nowadays but Mattie is a good reason to. And football, but don't tell him I said that. He hates football, and that's why we settle our fights out with hockey. Except that one time on the White House lawn, because that never happened since we weren't there when Jessie came looking for the idiot that sent a puck through her office window."

"Um… okay…" the imposter said nervously as three more figures joined the others.

"And tell your friends they'd better be outta my house by the time I wake up because there will be this awesome thing called 'absolute hell' in store for you guys if you are still around. Take anything, and I'll find you. I've got all the time in the world," Alfred said, managing a nasty smile before darkness overwhelmed him

The last thing he heard before completely passing out was, "You complete and utter _moron!_"

* * *

**A/N: 'United States of Colombia' is a reference to the awesome AU story 'Grey Skies over London' and sequel 'Every Generation' by Gemini Star01, as well as the subsequent third part 'Lost Time' on the Hetalia Kink meme. Still one of my favorite series.**


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